Phantom: A Retelling
by PhasL
Summary: A retelling of the 2004 movie and the sequel to Beginning of the End. She stepped through the mirror into his world and so doing set off a chain of events that would change the lives of all those in the theatre. COMPLETE.
1. Part One: Illusions

**Phantom: A Retelling**

**Part One: Illusions**

**I**

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* * *

**_Might as well start this off with a disclaimer...I own nothing, more literally than ever this time. All characters associated with this story belong to Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Joel Schumacherand anyone elseI may have forgotten. So with that out of the way don't sue and enjoy the story.

* * *

_ "Insolent boy! This slave of fashion, basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave,young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" 

Christine turned away from the door at the sound of her Angel's angry voice, heart beating rapidly in her chest. Her eyes darted around the room, helplessly trying the sound of his voice as she sang her own response, "Angel! I hear you! Speak - I listen…stay by my side, guide me! Angel, my soul was weak - forgive me…enter at last, Master!"

"Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide! Look at your face in the mirror - I am there inside!"

Christine turned and faced herself in the tall mirror, watching as the dim shape of a white mask seemed to blend into her own reflection. She took a tentative step forward as the shape became more prominent, and the figure of a man shrouded in black became visible. Then came his voice, gently calling her forward, and she listened.

"I am your Angel of Music…come to me Angel of music…"

The door handle rattle and her attention was drawn away from the mirror for a moment by the sound of Raoul's voice, "Whose is that voice…? Who is that in there…?"

"I am your Angel of music…"

"Christine! Christine!" Raoul called again, but she ignored it, too entranced by the voice of her Angel.

"Come to me Angel of Music…"

Christine stepped forward and placed her hand in that of her Angel's outstretched one. It was cold and clad in a leather glove, but his strong fingers closed gently over hers as he led her through the mirror and into the passageway behind it.

* * *

Erik could not believe what was happening and carefully led his angel through the passageway, glancing back every few second to make sure that she was still there. She seemed to be in a sort of trance, looking around wide-eyes as if there were something magical about the dreary cobweb filled tunnels. It did not matter to him though, he had her with him, that was all he cared about. 

Erik led her to where a gorgeous black stallion was waiting and aided her onto its back before leading it down the long stair case to where the boat was tied. It proved no trouble to get her into the gondola and he quickly followed and began to row through the labyrinth that led to the lake, and his home. Christine continued to look around in amazement.

When they reached the entrance to his lair he opened the grate in front of it and docked the boat by the shore, leaping out and swiftly removing his cloak before turning to face her, still nervous and unsure of what to do. She was gazing around the room as if in disbelief.

"I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne…to this kingdom where all must pay homage to my music...my music…You have come here, for one purpose and one alone…Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me, to serve me, to sing, for my music…my music," he sang, first moving away from the boat and showing her the glory of his lair, then slowly moving back towards her, and watching her reaction.

* * *

Christine listened dimly to his voice until he was right in front of her again, murky eyes looking into her own. In those eyes she could see complete adoration and desire as well as a sort of uncertainty. Then his voice filled the air again as he helped her out of the boat. 

"Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation…Darkness stirs and wakes imagination…Silently the senses abandon their defences…" his voice faded and she began to get up as he reached his hand out to help her from the boat. She took his hand and followed his as he began to lead her forward.

"Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour…Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender…" as he sang he beckoned her forward and she turned her head away to look around her new surroundings, but he gently cupped her chin and turned her face back to look at him "Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts way from cold, unfeeling light - and listen to the music of the night."

He let go of her hand and leapt up a set of stairs before turning to face her again, "Close you eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams! Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before! Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!" she obeyed him and allowed his voice to wash over her, leaving her with a strange lingering feeling, only opening her eyes when the high note had passed, "And you'll live as you've never lived before…"

He offered his hand again and she willingly followed him up the stairs, "Softly, deftly, music shall caress you…Hear it, feel it secretly possess you…" she held her breath as his face came so close that she could feel his warm breath as he circled around, she turned to follow him, "Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind in this darkness which you know you cannot fight - the darkness of the music of the night."

She watched as he moved away and a smile graced his lips as he began to circle behind the large pipe organ, his voice reaching another powerful note, "Let your mind start a journey to a strange, new world! Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before! Let your soul take you where you long to be! Only then can you belong to me…"

And again he was in front of her, fingers touching her chin, eyes seemingly boring into her soul. The it started again, "Floating, falling…sweet intoxication! Touch me, trust me…savour each sensation.

His hands roamed over her as he sang, across her breast down to her thigh and she suppressed a gasp as his hand took her own and brushed it across his cheek. She turned and again his face was so close, close enough to feel his breath or his lips but again he sang and started to move away, guising her.

"Let the dream begin! Let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write - the power of the music of the night…"

He smiled at her and she couldn't help but smile back as he pulled back a curtain. She turned and found herself to be looking back at what seemed to be her own reflection. But it wasn't. It was her, dressed in a wedding dress. Suddenly the entire night's events seemed to culminate and her head felt light and the edges of her vision went dark.

* * *

Erik barely had time to catch her as she fainted. He sighed and cursed himself inwardly. It had all been going to well. He picked her up and carried her to the large bed shaped like a swan and carefully laid her down, "you alone can make my song take flight - help me make the music of the night…" 

He brushed his hand across her cheek and then backed away slowly, pulling the curtain of the bed down so she was only visible through the dark veil. He stood there for a moment, just watching her then turned away and went back into his lair. He did not know what he would do now, he hadn't thought that far ahead and now cursed himself for his own stupidity.

She would not want to stay. When she woke up she would no doubt realize where she was and who she was with. Then she would become frightened and want to return to the theatre. It had been foolish to think otherwise. But maybe, just maybe she wouldn't care, maybe she would want to stay.

He sighed again and scratched the back of his neck irritably and loosened his cravat. It would be hours before she awoke so he had time to think. With another sigh he shrugged off his jacket and removed the cravat entirely. The stupid this was terribly uncomfortable at times. Then he took off his waistcoat and changed his shirt, slipping on a robe overtop of it. He then sat down at thedesk and rested his chin on folded hands, he would need to come up with a plan. He only wished that his mind didn't seem to be so utterly blank. With a resigned sigh he pulled a piece of paper and a pen towards him. He could start by sending notes to all those who he needed under his contol or gone.

* * *

**A/N: So that was the first chapter of my movie rewrite, hope you enjoyed it. I'm cutting out a lot of the singing because...well who sings all the time? I mean, yes, there was that one day in the halls at school, but that was once. Also because they didn't sing their ways through life in the first story so it would be a bit weird for them to start now.**


	2. II

II

Antoinette sighed heavily and went back to the changing room to ensure that all of her dancers had gone to bed. Surely enough the room was empty except some ballet slippers and a few empty pots of greasepaint. She turned to leave and found her daughter hanging by the door.

"Yes, my dear?" she asked.

"Maman, Christine hasn't come to bed yet. I'm worried about her, she's been acting strangely lately."

"I am sure she is fine," Antoinette said, praying that her words were true, "just go to bed my dear."

"Alright, good night," Meg said, hugging her mother, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Oui, get a good night's sleep, there is another performance tomorrow."

Meg left and Antoinette tidied the room before leaving. She went to lock the door and noticed that her keys were missing. She sighed and shook her head before heading to Carlotta's dressing room to find Meg. If anything she could say that her daughter was determined.

By the time she made it the door was already open. She stepped into the dim room and sighed when she saw the mirror pushed back and herd her daughter giving a small screech. She walked through the entrance to the grungy tunnel and grabbed her daughter's arm. Meg wheeled around, wide-eyes as Antoinette pulled her out and slid the mirror shut behind her.

"But what if Christine was taken through there?" Meg asked as she was led back to the dormitory.

"Then there is nothing to do," Antoinette replied sharply, "you should not have been in there, Meg."

"I know," Meg sighed, "but I'm really worried."

"She will be fine, Meg," Antoinette assure her, reaching for the door of the dormitory, "Christine is a strong girl. She can take care of herself."

When she opened the door she found Buquet telling another one of his horrid ghost stories. Meg slipped past quickly and went to her bed. Antoinette frowned and pulled two of her dancers from the man's grasp.

"This is the dormitory for the dancers, not for the stagehands! Antoinette said, taking the lasso from Buquet's hands and slapping him, "and if you so not stop telling such stories you may want to be more careful," she added, throwing the lasso over his head and tightening it so he reached up and grabbed at his throat, "or you may have to walk around with your hand at the level of your eye!"

She let go and he quickly removed the noose before muttering, "Good night, Madame Giry."

She shook her head and turned to her dancers, "Get ready for bed! There is work to be done tomorrow."

She left the dormitory and met Buquet in the hallway. Antoinette ignored him and started to walk back to her apartment.

"You know, Madame Giry," he said, "you seem to know an awful lot about the ghost."

"No more than anyone else," she replied tartly.

"I think that you know much more," he argued.

"Really?" she asked, "and what of you? You seem to know an awful lot to be telling such stories. He sounds terrifying, Monsieur Buquet, I do hope that I will never meet him. Bonsoir."

She opened the door to her small apartment and went inside, closing it in the man's face before he could say another word. With and exhausted sigh she sat down in the armchair and closed her eyes. Within five minutes she was asleep.

* * *

Erik ran a hand through his hair and slung his cloak loosely over his shoulders. If he worked quickly, which he always did, he would most likely be back before Christine awoke. It was a simple task really. Deliver a few letters and be done with it.

To find the addresses of the persons in question he went into the manager's office and went through a few files. It was not difficult to find the addresses for messieurs Firmin and Andre, but the young man's address was a bit more tricky. After all, the boy's family no doubt had more than one residence and he needed to find the correct one, one that was in the city. Within five minutes he found an appropriate address and left the office, exiting into the cool night air.

The two new managers lived in the same residence in two separate apartments, so once he found the building he merely unlocked the front doors and left the envelopes outside the appropriate doors. He then made his way through the city to the de Chagny residents.

He stood outside the house for a while, debating the best way to have the letter delivered to the occupant in question. Breaking into the house seemed a foolish task. There were most likely servants, and with his luck someone might still be up. The last thought gave him and idea and he knocked on the door three times.

The door cracked open, stopping when the chain on the inside reached its length. The nervous eyes of a young woman peered at him, "Y-yes?" she squeaked.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle," Erik replied, "I am terribly sorry to bother you at this moment, but I have a message I need delivered to the young de Chagny boy."

"Oh…he-he isn't home yet," she squeaked.

"Isn't he?" Erik asked, more to himself, "well then, could you possibly give this note to him when he returns?" he asked as pleasantly as possible, reaching into his cloak and handing her the envelope with the red wax seal.

"I-um, yes, of course," she said, taking the envelope.

"You are very kind, mademoiselle," Erik said, giving a nod of his head, "ensure that he get its first thing in the morning?"

"Of course, sir," she said, "the morning?"

"Yes, we would not want to trouble him at such a late hour, would we?" Erik replied, he then gave another polite nod, "bonsoir, mademoiselle."

The door shut and the lock clicked. Erik gave a small smile, it had gone better than expected. Although the fact that the boy had not been in bothered him. No doubt he was reporting the missing Christine to the gendarmes. But with any luck they would think nothing of it. It certainly wouldn't be the first time a chorus girl disappeared from the theatre late at night.

As he walked back up the street a carriage passed. He glanced at it, it bore the de Chagny crest. A small smile formed on his lips, perfect, he would get the note in the morning, just as he had planned.

The walk back to his home felt longer than usual and he stripped off the cloak as soon as he entered, pulling on a robe instead. He sat down at the organ and stared at the keys, playing might wake Christine, and he was not sure what to do once she woke up, so he picked up a pen and spread several sheets of music in front of him. All of it needed some editing, and now would be the perfect time.

* * *

**A/N: Oh, I feel so bad for taking so long to update, but I have been busy with school and life...sad really. I was going to update last night but then I went to see "V for Vendetta" (wonderful movie)and had to finish a physics lab. Anyways, hope you enjoy and please review,I barely have any right now and it makes me sad.**


	3. III

III

Christine blinked blearily as the gentle tinkle of music reached her ears. She looked around and for a moment panic rose in her chest at the unfamiliar surroundings. Then the memories from the night before came back to her in a daze. She pushed back the curtains around the bed and looked up at a little music box. A barrel organ with a monkey on it playing a familiar tune, and then the gentle sound of the organ came to her.

She climbed out of the strange bed and stretched, taking a deep breath as she walked towards the exit of the room. She did not know what to expect when she went around the corner. She moved carefully and looked around the strange home, taking in everything that she hadn't noticed the night before.

It was cluttered, papers were scattered over every surface and strange props from past productions and candelabras with flickering candles and dripping wax. She could see him sitting at the organ playing quietly, she figured it was so he wouldn't wake her. She made a small noise in the back of her throat to get his attention. He turned his head and looked at her briefly before going back to whatever he was working on. Purposefully ignoring her as he scribbled something on a music score.

She approached carefully, coming up on his unmasked side. She could see him glance at her and then return to what he was doing. She looked at the score, it was only the beginnings of a song and the notes seemed erratic to her.

Christine decided not to bother him and waited as he fiddled around with the beginnings of a melody. She studied him as he played, watching his every movement as he wrote the notes on the score. So this was her angel, and the infamous Opera Ghost. He was either really, just a man in a mask who had created an extraordinary world of illusions to bemuse everyone…just a man in a mask. A white mask.

The mask. It was intriguing, why did he wear it, was it to frighten people, to create and air of mystery? She could feel her curiosity get the better of her and touched his naked cheek.

She felt him tense beneath her hand and then relax into the touch, revelling in it. She roamed her hand over his face until she could feel the edges of the mask. She waited for a brief second, her better judgement keeping her there for a mere second before she grasp the edge of the cool leather and pulled it off his face. She caught a brief glimpse of what was hidden beneath eh leather shell before his hand flew to his face and the other knocked her forcefully to the ground in an uncontrollable fit of rage.

* * *

Antoinette woke up early and got ready for the day. That evening was the performance of _Il Muto _and she wanted the dancers to get in one last, good rehearsal before they performed on stage.

She got dressed and did her hair up before leaving to wake the girls. They would have breakfast, try their costumes on one final time, find their shoes, get their makeup on…the list went on.

She was heading for the dormitory when she ran into her daughter walking back from the direction of Carlotta's dressing room. She sighed and shook her head, "Meg?"

"Oh, good morning, Maman," she said, hurrying over, chewing her bottom lip nervously.

"What are you doing up already?" Antoinette asked her guilty looking daughter.

"I was just…Christine never came in last night and she wasn't in her bed this morning. I just wanted to look for her," Meg explained, "I looked in the chapel and the dressing room. But she wasn't there. I'm worried about her."

Antoinette gave her daughter a sympathetic look, "I'm sure that she is fine, Meg. Now, could you go and get everyone up? Then get some breakfast if you have not had any. It will be a busy day."

Meg nodded and hurried off the dormitory. Antoinette rubbed her temples and sighed. She had no idea if Christine was alright. She did not know what Erik would do. She could only hope that he would be the gentleman she knew he could be.

"Of course he will be," she murmured, heading for the dressing room, "he will be…"

* * *

Christine handed the mask back to him with a trembling hand. She had never seen anyone so angry before, but it had evaporated so suddenly, leaving a profound sadness.

He replaced the mask and stood up, walking away so his back was turned to her. She could tell he was trying to compose himself as he took a deep breath, "Come, we must return - those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you."

"Oh…right," Christine murmured, still unsure of what to do.

Erik nodded, "I, have a few things to do before we can leave."

Christine nodded her head as he walked over to a desk and started to scribble something on a small card. She watched as he sealed the note in an envelope with a red wax skull. He then proceeded to walk away, into the bedroom. He remained there for several minutes and she finally stood up and brushed herself off, suddenly horribly aware of what she was wearing. Or more so, what she was not wearing.

He emerged again, fully dressed in a black suit. She hugged her arms over her chest and tried not to make eye contact. He moved past her and picked his cloak off of the floor, putting it one in one swift movement.

"Follow me," he said, motioning for her to get in the boat.

"Of course," she whispered, climbing in carefully and drawing her knees up to her chest.

* * *

Erik sighed as he pushed the boat to the dock and allowed Christine to climb out. She pulled back when he passed her, not even allowing the fabric of the cloak to brush against her. He cursed himself for this. It had all gone too well, he should have known better. Nothing good ever lasted long.

The walk back to the surface was long, but he figured they had time. It would still be very early in the morning. Most of the members of the theatre would not even be awake. He glanced back and caught her just as she cast her eyes towards the ground again. Not a bad idea, he decided, the old tunnels had uneven floors.

"Here," he said, after an exceedingly long silence, "go through there."

He pressed the release and the lock on the mirror clicked open. He grasped the side of it and pulled it back before stepping aside to allow her through. Christine stole a final glance before hurrying through the opening and into the dark dressing room. Erik sighed and slid the mirror back into place. Listening for the click of the lock before turning and making his way back through the maze of tunnels.

* * *

Christine turned just as the mirror closed. She bit her bottom lip and sighed heavily. She couldn't even remember why he had been so angry. She had seen his face, was that it? His face…what had it looked like. There had been something wrong with it, she knew that. But what? She tried hard to remember what she had seen, but he had reacted so quickly, so angrily. It must have been horrible, no, it was horrible.

She jumped as the door to the dressing room opened and gave a cry of relief when she saw Antoinette standing in the doorway, "Madame…"

Antoinette rushed forward as Christine almost fainted into her arms. She looked down at the child and gave a sad sigh. She was still dressed in her dressing gown and her feet were bare. She felt cold and was obviously exhausted.

"Come my dear," she murmured, "you need rest."

Christine nodded weakly and allowed Antoinette to guide her back to her apartment. Meg met them half way and gasped when she saw her friend.

"Oh, Christine! I was so worried, are you alright?" she asked, "oh, you don't look well."

"She just needs some rest," Antoinette assured her, "why don't you go and get something from the kitchen for her."

Meg nodded and hurried off. Antoinette sighed and entered her apartment, letting Christine take her bed. The girl lay down and sighed, looking around the room, "Madame Giry?"

"Oui?" Antoinette asked.

"I…he asked…he gave me this," she muttered, handing her an envelope.

"Thank you," Antoinette said, "taking it from her. He did not hurt you, I trust?"

"No…" Christine replied distantly, "he didn't hurt me."

Antoinette tapped the envelope against her palm and looked her over. There were no bruises, but she still seemed distant, "He did nothing to you? Nothing at all?"

"No," Christine replied with a bit more confidence, "he…didn't hurt me."

Antoinette nodded and waited for her daughter to return. She had a glass of water and a piece of buttered bread with her. Antoinette placed them on the bedside table and told Christine to get some rest.

* * *

"Maman, I could hear the managers. It seems that they're looking for Christine."

"I see. Well we should go tell them that she is fine, non?"

Antoinette found the managers standing together with Raoul, Carlotta and Piangi. Firmin and Andre were talking, shaking their head, "All we've heard since we came in Miss Daae's name!"

"Miss Daae has returned," Antoinette informed them.

"I hope no worse for wear," Firmin said, glancing at Raoul.

"Where precisely is she now?" Andre asked eagerly.

"I thought it best she was alone," Antoinette said.

"She needed rest," Meg piped in.

"May I see her?" Raoul asked.

"No, she will see no one," Antoinette said, taking the decision upon herself. It would be best that way. For both Christine and the young man. Whatever happened would not have put Erik in a good mood.

"Will she sing? Will she sing?" Carlotta and Piangi demanded.

Antoinette did not know the answer and instead pulled out a note, "Here, I have a note

"Let me see it!" they all exclaimed.

Antoinette handed it to Firmin who snatched it away, "Please!"

He read the note aloud and everyone listened intently. Afterwards Carlotta erupted into another one of her tantrums. The managers followed her through the theatre and Antoinette followed as well, listening to their attempts to calm her down and appease the dive. In the end it was decided that the roles would stay exactly as they had been scripted. Christine was going to play the role of the pageboy and Carlotta would be playing the lead.

Antoinette sighed heavily and went to help Christine get into costume. The girl still seemed distant and kept looking over her shoulder as she got into costume and put her makeup on.

"It will be alright," Antoinette assured, "you know what to do."

"Its not that," Christine murmured as the orchestra began to warm up.

"You will be fine," Antoinette repeated, patting Christine's hand, "nothing will go wrong…" she watched as Christine made her way onto the stage and sighed. A shadow moved behind her and she tried to believe that it wasn't Erik, "I hope."

* * *

**A/N: Come on, review...pretty please? Ah well, hope those of you who are reading are enjoying the story so far. I will really try to update more, but this week I have a big old math test and a physics lab, so don't expect miracles...Review!**


	4. IV

IV

Erik scowled as he watched them prepare for the performance. These new managers did not suit him, so far they had cast aside all of his requests. But he could fix this one easily enough. Amongst all the hustle and bustle of the dancers and performers no one noticed a shadow.

He waited for the overture to begin and then took Carlotta's throat spray, replacing it with his own. A small smirk formed on his lips and he quickly left the scene, unaware that someone had been watching him.

Now all he needed was a distraction, something to unnerve the performers, something that would cause Carlotta to use her throat spray. He knew exactly what that would be. He could kill two birds with one stone, so to say. The managers would finally have to admit to his presence and Carlotta would be off the stage, hopefully for a very long time.

He climbed up to the high, domes ceiling of the auditorium. It was the perfect place to watch. The chandelier hid him if anyone looked up and it allowed his voice to echo throughout the entire room.

"…If he knew the truth, he'd never ever go!"

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?" Erik asked, voice booming throughout the theatre, causing the crowd to gasp and look around and the performance to stop in its tracks.

* * *

Christine's eyes widened and she looked around nervously. The crowd was murmuring and she heard Meg whisper that it was the Phantom of the Opera. She knew that voice. He was here, somewhere, hiding.

"Its him," she murmured.

"Your part is silent, little toad!" Carlotta snapped.

Everything seemed to be a daze to Christine. She heard Carlotta squawking at her maid and the audience murmuring. Then the music started again, Carlotta was singing and then…she croaked. It happened again and then she heard her give a cry and leave the stage.

Within second the managers were on the stage and the curtains were closed behind them. Christine listened as they talked, not really knowing what was going on until she felt one of them grab her arm and announced that she would be playing the countess.

"Go, go, hurry up, hurry up," Firmin urged, pushing her back behind the curtain.

Christine found Antoinette, who started to help her into Carlotta's costume. Christine remained dazed, still unsure of exactly what was unfolding. In front of her she saw a single red rose with a black ribbon tied around the stem. She picked it up carefully and twirled it around in her fingers, that's when she heard the scream.

* * *

Erik watched as the life slowly drained from the man's terrified eyes, and a cruel smile formed on his lips. He had never liked the man, he had always been poking his nose where it had not belonged, he had been a drunk and a lecher, trying to capture the dancers backstage late at night. Buquet should have know better than to try and capture him in his own domain, it was his own fault.

He felt no remorse as he choked the life from him and then pushed his body off of the flies, allowing it the dangle centre stage for a moment. The screams of the dancers and the audience came quickly, and he dropped the body, causing it to land on the stage with a sickening thud.

He then turned away and swiftly made his way up to the roof. Out into the cold night air, the adrenaline draining away and, for once, leaving him with a sickening feeling.

* * *

Christine nearly collided with Raoul as she ran away from the stage. He caught her and tried to calm her down, but it was no use.

"Raoul, we're not safe here!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the winding staircase that lead up through the levels of the theatre and onto the roof.

"Christine," Raoul gasped, "why have you brought me here?"

"We can't go back there," she replied urgently.

"We must return," he reasoned, "they'll be-"

"He'll kill you! His eyes will find us there!"

"Christine don't say that…"

"Those eyes that burn!"

"Don't even think it…"

"And if he has to kill a thousand men-"

Forget this waking nightmare…"

"The Phantom of the Opera will kill and kill again!" she exclaimed, still dragging him up and up, through the stories and to the roof. Then she seemed to start speaking more to herself than him, "My god who is this man, who hunts to kill…? I can't escape from him…I never will!"

"This Phantom is a fable, believe me, there is no Phantom of the Opera…" he reasoned, then started to try to reason the entire thing out loud, "My god, who is this man, the mask of death…? Whose is this voice you hear with every breath…?

"And in his labyrinth, where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is here: inside my mind," Christine finished, shoving open the door to the roof and dragging Raoul into the frigid night air.

"There is no Phantom of the Opera.." Raoul said gently, still trying to reassure his terrified friend.

"Raoul, I've been there-to his world of unending night…to a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness…darkness…Raoul, I've seen him! Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted deformed, it was hardly a face in the darkness…darkness…" she paused briefly and then a small smile seemed to form on her lips, "but his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound…In that night there was music in my mind…And through music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I've never heard before…"

"What you heard was a dream and nothing more," Raoul said gently.

"Yet in his eyes all the sadness of the world, those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore…" she said, not hearing Raoul's reasoning and instead recalling the night before.

"Christine," Raoul sighed a bit irritably, "Christine, you're talking in riddles. There is no Phantom or Opera Ghost, it is all just a ploy."

"No," Christine said, shaking her head, "Raoul, why won't you believe me?"

Raoul wrapped his arms around her shivering form and sighed, "He is not real, Christine."

Christine stepped away from him, "You saw what he did, you heard him…why won't you believe me?"

"I heard a man's voice," Raoul said, "but that does not make him a ghost. Just a man hidden up above the theatre…and that man. It was an accident, didn't you hear the managers?"

"It wasn't," Christine said shakily, "who can cut themselves down after…"

Raoul embraced her again, "Christine, I promise that no one ill hurt you, I won't let them. Forget all of these wide-eyes fears. I'm here: nothing can arm you. Please, Christine, I'm here, with you, beside you…I promise that I will never let anything or anyone hurt you."

"You can't promise that," Christine sighed.

"Yes I can," Raoul assure her.

"Then say you love me," she replied, "say you need me with you, tell me that all you say is true, Raoul."

"I love you," he replied with no hesitation.

"All I want is freedom," Christine sighed, "I'm tired of this world where its always night….but I'm afraid, Raoul. I don't know if I can leave, I don't think that I can. Its like I'm trapped, like something won't let me go."

Raoul sighed and took the rose from Christine's hand, dropping it on the ground before cupping her cheek, "I'll help you. I'll take you away from all this. We can escape, together"

Christine smiled weakly at him, "I know you will…say you love."

"You know I do," Raoul replied gently, drawing her face towards him and placing a kiss on her lips.

* * *

Erik allowed his head to rest against the cold stone statue. He sickened himself. He had terrified her and pushed her away. Now she was turning to him, to that boy for safety and reassurance. Some old childhood sweetheart. That had been his job, he had been her only friend, the only one she really felt safe with for so long.

He wondered when that had changed. No, he knew. It had changed when he had changed. When he had become possessive, when he had set down all of those insane rules. That was supposed to be his kiss, hic Christine. Now she was gone, and he had only himself to blame.

* * *

"I must go-they'll wonder where I am," she gasped, "Come with me, Raoul!"

"Christine, I love you!"

"Order your fine horses! Be with them at the door!"

"And soon you'll be beside me!"

"You'll guard me and you'll guide me…" Christine finished, leading him back through the door and to the staircase.

* * *

Erik stepped out from behind the statue once he was sure they were gone. He looked around the bleak, snow covered roof. Their footsteps were still there and on the ground was a single red rose, tied in a black ribbon.

He bent down and plucked it from the snow, staring at it blankly. His rose, his sign of affection, that he was pleased. Tears filled his eyes and he could feel them choking his throat.

"I gave you everything," he whispered, "everything I hold dear, and now…you've betrayed me. Of course he'd love you…of course you'd love him, he's…"

He turned as he heard them, talking happily as they went back down the stairs. He ground his teeth together and his fist closed of the delicate blossom in his hand, crushing the petals and grinding them as rage built inside him. They would rue this day and in a sudden fit of rage he sprinted over to the large statue and climbed onto it.

"You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!" he cried, allowing the anger to consume him and fuel him forward. This was not going to be the end.

* * *

By the time Christine returned almost everyone had left. There were gendarmes removing the body of Joseph Buquet from the stage and asking the dancers and other stagehands questions. Meg immediately rushed over to her and embraced her tightly.

"Oh, Christine! I was so worried, where were you?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

"I was on the roof," she replied.

"Maman, and I have been looking for you. She said that she saw you leaving and we couldn't find you," Meg continued, "oh, but you're alright. You must have been terrified."

"Yes," Christine replied a bit unsurely, "I guess so."

"Christine," Raoul said, touching her arm, "get dressed, I'll order my carriage."

"Oh, right," she said, suddenly unsure of what to do.

"What?" Meg asked, "his carriage?"

"We're…going out to supper," she said weakly.

"You're a terribly liar, Christine," Meg scolded, "what are you really doing?"

"I'm leaving with Raoul," she said quietly, "just for a while. I'll still come here to practise, I'll see you almost every day."

"No you won't," Meg said sadly, "the next performance has been cancelled because of all this. There won't be any practises until after the new year. A lot of the dancers who can go home are. For an early Christmas break…at least that's what they're telling their families."

"I'll visit," Christine said, "I promise, Meg. We'll still be in the city."

"Christine," Antoinette said, placing a hand on her chest and sighing with relief, "I am glad that Meg has found you."

"Christine's leaving the theatre tonight," Meg said informed her mother.

"Pardon?" Antoinette asked, "Christine, is that true?"

"I'm going to stay with Raoul for a while," she said, "I just…I need to get away from all this. Please, Madame, say you understand, say you'll let me go."

"Of course child," Antoinette sighed, "it may be best this way…go get dressed them. Meg, you as well. You can't stay in that costume all night."

"Yes," they both replied, heading off to the changing room.

* * *

Antoinette leaned heavily against the wall and sighed. She could feel the beginnings of a headache forming and felt teas stinging the corners of her eyes. Everything was going so horribly wrong now. She had been afraid of this for so long, maybe not exactly of this., but of something similar.

"Oh, Erik," she sighed heavily, "what have you done?"


	5. V

V

Erik stayed on the roof for what seemed like forever before making his way back down the winding staircase. For once he didn't care who saw him, he didn't care if they screamed. The gendarmes were most likely there, but he knew that he could disappear almost at will in the theatre.

He was angry, no he was furious, and as he stormed through the theatre his shoulder collided with an older stagehand. He didn't care until he heard the man shout something.

"What?" he hissed.

"I said watch where you're going you oaf," the man retorted.

Erik wheeled around, grabbing the front of the man's shirt and slammed him against the wall. The man's eyes filled with an all too familiar terror and Erik gave a low growl in the back of his throat.

"I'm sorry!" the man exclaimed, "I-I didn't know…"

Erik gave an annoyed snort and released the man, allowing his to fall in a heap on the floor, "Watch where you're going," he snarled, retreating into the shadows and disappearing before the poor stagehand's eyes.

* * *

Christine blinked and looked around the brightly lit room. It took a moment for her to remember where she was. The night before Raoul had taken her to his apartment. She didn't remember much more than that. She had been too tired and had gone straight to bed.

With a yawn she pushed back to heavy comforter and got out of bed. She was still dressed in her dress from the day before and attempted to straighten her skirts. With a sigh she looked in the mirror on the wall and ran her fingers through it to try and get some of the tangles out.

"Excuse me?" a small voice asked from the door.

"Oh," Christine gasped, turning to face the maid standing in her doorframe, "yes?"

"I was just coming to tell you that breakfast is ready, miss."

"Oh, thank you," Christine replied, "I'll be right down."

The maid gave a small curtsey and hurried away, closing the door behind her. Christine turned back to the mirror and tied her hair back before leaving the room.

The house wasn't terribly large, but larger than she was used to. She made her way down the stairs to the main floor and looked around for where they would be eating. She found Raoul sitting at the table in a small dining room.

"Um, good morning," she said tentatively, taking the seat opposite him.

"Good morning, Christine," he replied cheerfully, "did you sleep well?"

"Umm, yes, thank you."

"That's good," he replied, "would you like some tea?"

"Oh, yes, that would be nice."

Raoul smiled and when the maid returned she poured them each a cup of tea and served them a fruit salad for breakfast. Christine picked at the food, taking only small pieces of fruit and sipping her tea.

"I thought that we could get some of you things from the theatre today," Raoul suggested.

"Oh," Christine said, looking up from her meal, "yes, that…that would be nice."

"Very well then. I have some business at the bank this afternoon. Perhaps you could collect your belongings then?"

"Yes, that would be fine," she replied, "I promised Meg that I would visit."

* * *

That afternoon the carriage jostled to a stop outside of the theatre. Christine stepped out carefully and walked up to the front doors as the carriage left. She bit her lip nervously and entered. A few heads turned to look at her as she made her way through the main hall to the back of the building. As she often forgot the building was often used as a sort of salon for the aristocracy of Paris during the day. They would sit around and discuss whatever it was they talked about while the occupants of the theatre practiced in the back, preparing for the operas and ballets that they would pay so much to see.

"Christine!" Meg exclaimed as she entered the dormitory, "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"I had to get my things," Christine replied a bit guiltily, "I left everything here last night."

"Oh, right…"

"I also wanted to see you," Christine added as cheerfully as she could, "I promised, remember?"

"Of course," Meg replied, "but will you still come to practices? Maman had all of us who are still here working. She doesn't want us getting lazy."

"I'll try," Christine said, collecting her few items and putting them in a bag.

"That's all you're taking?" Meg asked.

"I don't think I'll need much," Christine said, "I'm still fairly close to the theatre…if I need anything I can just come by. Why aren't you practising today?"

"The gendarmes are still here, snooping around," she replied glumly, "they're asking everyone what they saw before and after. I think its rubbish. The only person who saw anything was Buquet and he's been…well, I guess you know."

"Yeah," Christine replied nervously, "I know."

Meg bit her lip and looked around the room, "So, is Raoul here?"

"No, he said he had something to do," Christine replied, "he should be back in an hour or so."

"Do you want to go to the café then?" Meg asked hopefully, "we always used to go when we were little."

Sure," Christine said, looking for any excuse to get out of the haunting theatre, "I'd love that."

"Wonderfully, we can even get something to eat, as long as you promise not to tell maman."

"Would I ever do that, Meg?" Christine teased.

They left the dormitory and made their way to the back door they usually used to enter and exit the theatre. As they walked they talked as casually as possible, trying to avoid the subject of the night before. But Christine still felt insecure. She hurried through the shadowy parts of the theatre, glanced over her shoulder at every turn and jumped at every shadow that moved. It was only when they were out in the bleak sunlight that she truly felt safe, though they were still trapped in the shadow of the grand theatre.

"What do you want?" Meg asked as they sat down in the small café.

"Oh, just tea," Christine replied, still staring at the theatre, "thank you."

"Fine, I'll order for both of us," Meg laughed before ordering two coffees and two pieces of cake.

"I just wanted tea," Christine objected.

"That's what you said," Meg agreed, "but then we'd be breaking our tradition."

Christine smiled, "I guess so…we wouldn't want that, would we?"

"We couldn't have it," Meg chuckled, "oh, maman would certainly kill us."

Christine flashed a fake smile, "Yeah…"

When Raoul finally arrived Christine hurriedly got into the carriage. Standing around in the shadows of the theatre had done a number on her nerves and she wanted nothing more than to get away from the building. Every shadow had been terrifying and every creak from above or bellow had caused her to jump. Even in the café she felt as if she had had to keep watch.

"Did you enjoy your visit?" he asked, kissing her gently and smiling.

"Yes. There will be practises starting next week," she replied, smiling weakly, "practises will be starting again next week. I think I should go to them."

"Very well," he replied, nodding his head, "I would never keep you from them, Christine. But until then, I was thinking that we could go to the bois tomorrow. We could have a picnic."

"Oh, that sounds lovely!" Christine exclaimed, "it has been so long since I went there…I'd like that, Raoul."

* * *

**A/N: Well there you have it, for those of you reading this, another chapter up. Hope you enjoyed it and, as always, leave a review!**


	6. VI

VI

Antoinette sighed heavily as she made her way to the managers office. They had been calling meeting for everyone who ran anything in the theatre. The head stableman, the conductor, lead stagehand and now it was her turn.

For the past three days everything had run as smoothly as could be asked. Tomorrow the lessons and practises for the remaining dancers would start again and the orchestra was already in the pit, going through different pieces for a small performance that would be in a week. It seemed that the managers did not want the theatre to be seemingly closed and had arranged for the orchestra to do a small matinee.

"Enter!" one of the two men cried when she knocked on the door.

She opened the door and was quickly herded into the chair in front of the desk by Andre. She made an insulted noise as she sat down and straightened her skirts. Andre went and stood behind Firmin.

"Good day," Firmin said in an overly cheerful voice, "how are you, Madame?"

"May I ask why I am here?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"Ah, yes," Firmin said, "we are trying to get to know our staff and since you are the ballet mistress we thought that you would be an important person to meet."

"I see," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," Andre said, "well, we also wanted to discuss our plans for the theatre over the next few months. As you know we are not doing any operas until after the new years party. However, we would be interested in having a small ballet, perhaps?"

Antoinette sighed heavily as she thought it through, "I suppose that could be arranged."

"Splendid!" Firmin smiled, "well then, how about, oh lets see…two weeks?"

"That is suitable," she replied, "I will come up with something appropriate and speak with Monsieur Reyer about the music."

"Yes, yes, very good," Firmin said, waving his hand, "now, another matter."

"Another matter?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, I was curious…what do you know about this Ghost that everyone speaks of?" Firmin asked as casually as possible, running his hand over the polished wood of the desk.

"Ah, the Opera Ghost," Antoinette sighed, "he has been in this theatre for a very long time messieurs."

"Yes, and?" Andre persisted.

"In every way this theatre is his. He knows everything that goes on and he controls everything," she explained, "no one knows where he resides or where he came from. We do know, however, how much trouble he is capable and will cause if he is ignored."

"Oh really?" Firmin asked, "and what exactly is he capable of, hmm?"

"You saw that last night," Antoinette replied.

"An accident," Andre argued, "that was an accident, Madame Giry!"

"Suit yourselves and believe what you will. But believe me when I tell you that he is a genius messieurs, and he will not rest until he had achieved what he wants…"

"Very well then, thank you and you may go," Firmin sighed.

Antoinette got up and left, closing the door carefully behind her. She let out another sigh and shook her head. It was true, Erik would not give up until he achieved exactly what he wanted, and what he wanted was Christine and the obedience of his new managers. Neither would be easy to obtain, and that meant a very difficult time for the theatre.

* * *

Christine stared out the window of the carriage as the city bumped past. She felt Raoul's arm drape around her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. With a small smile she turned and kissed him gently on the cheek. 

"You really don't mind?" he asked.

"Not at all," Christine said, shaking her head.

"Little Lotte," Raoul said, taking her hand in his, "I would understand if you did not want to come. It will be terribly boring."

"Its only for one day, right?" Christine asked.

Raoul nodded his head, "Yes, one day, Christine. One day that you'll have to spend in the company of my parents. My very proper parents."

"I'm sure I'll survive," Christine said, trying to lighten the mood.

Raoul just smiled and leaned back in his seat as the carriage rattled up to the front of the large house. The driver let them out and he lead the way to the front door and knocked on it.

"Yes?" a manservant asked, opening the door and scrutinizing them.

"We're here to see my parents," Raoul said, "could you inform them that we have arrived?"

"Of course, sir."

Raoul entered and fiddled with the hem of his sleeve before leading Christine to the parlour where his parents were waiting. His father, a larger man with thinning grey hair and a moustache, greeted him first and then his mother, a lovely woman with greying blonde hair embraced him and kissed him on the cheek. Then both of their attentions were focussed on Christine.

"Hello," she said quietly, curtseying, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yes, well of course mademoiselle," Raoul's father said.

"Ah, so this is the young woman that our son has been telling us about?" his mother asked, "well, how lovely to meet you dear."

Christine gave an awkward smile as the Comtesse de Chagny stared her down. She was smiling, that was true, but it didn't reach her icy green eyes. Christine shifted nervously and tried to smile again without looking too stupid.

"Well, why don't we go have tea?" the comtesse asked.

"What a good idea," Raoul agreed.

* * *

Erik stared blankly ahead at the score that sat in front of him. The notes appeared jumbled and they made no logical sense, but it didn't matter, it was his work and he had worked on it non-stop for the past two days. 

With a groan he turned and looked around the dishevelled place that he called home. Papers were scattered everywhere and music stands and candelabras littered the floor. Wax from the candles that had been snuffed out as they fell had formed rods from the candles to the ground.

He turned back to the organ and stared at the score again before crumpling it up and throwing it to the ground. His fingers were cramped and hunger tugged at his stomach. His mouth felt dry and his eyes heavy, but he wouldn't stop and once again he placed his fingers on the keys and began to work out the raging music inside his head. He knew it would take weeks, maybe even months. But he was determined to finish this opera and then he would have it performed in his theatre.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, finally an update! Sorry it took so long, for those of you reading, but I've been a bit busy with evil math and physics. So, leave some reviews, pretty please!**


	7. VII

VII

Christine stared out the window of the carriage as it jostled to the theatre. Strange, it seemed that she did that a lot lately, staring out windows. The window of her room, the window of the parlour, the window of the carriage. She felt Raoul's hand touch hers and smiled at him.

"Thinking?" he asked.

"I guess so," Christine replied, "are you sure it isn't a problem?"

"What isn't a problem?" he asked.

"Taking me here everyday," she clarified.

"No, Christine, I love you. I'd do anything for you. Including taking you to the theatre to practise."

"The performance is tomorrow night," she said, "you'll be there, right?"

"Of course," he replied, kissing her, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Christine smiled and climbed out of the carriage after it jolted to a stop. Making sure she had all her things she quickly went around and entered through the back of the theatre and met Meg, who waited by the door everyday.

"You're late," Meg scolded teasingly.

"I know," Christine replied, "I just have to get changed, then I'll be ready to start."

"Tomorrow," Meg reminded her.

"I know," she laughed, "come on, lets get to the change room."

Meg giggled and the two hurried to the change room. Meg stood by while Christine got changed and they both hurried out to practise. It was strange though, unlike the rehearsals they were all used to these ones were short and uncrowned. It was only the dancers, going through a few dances on the stage by themselves.

"So, they say there won't be any operas performed until after the new year," Meg sighed as they began to get changed, "it will certainly be boring around here until then."

"Call it boring," Christine said, "but I would call it less hectic…oh, how is Carlotta?"

"Fine," Meg said, sticking her tongue out and rolling her eyes, "apparently it was nothing too damaging, just emotionally scaring. She's doing a private performance in two weeks."

"Really?" Christine asked, "well, that's good I guess. I'm glad she can still sing."

"I'm not," Meg groaned, "think of all those poor people who have to listen. You should be giving private performances and public ones for that matter."

"I don't know," Christine said softly, "maybe it wouldn't be that wise, after all it wasn't very fair for me to get on stage…"

"Don't say that," Meg said sternly, "none of that was your fault. Don't blame yourself, Christine, you deserve it as much as anyone."

"Oh, is our little scandal back?" another dancer asked as she brushed past, "how nice."

"Be quiet," Meg shot back.

"What does she mean?" Meg asked.

"Oh come on," the dancer replied, "you can't say that you haven't heard. Its all over the papers and all around this place. Oh, not that you'd know, you're never here."

"Go away," Meg said.

"Honestly, Christine. You disappear for a night and then, the very next day you run off with the newest patron of the theatre. The incredibly handsome, Vicomte de Chagny," she continued, "tell me how is his house? Is it lovely and big? Oh, and how is his bed?"

"Oh be quiet!" Meg said angrily, "how's are the new managers' beds? I know that you and your friend have been in them!"

The other dancer sniffed and turned away from both of them, meeting up with her friend and leaving in a huff. Meg turned back to Meg and shook her head is disgust.

"Is that really what people think?" Christine asked, "they think that Raoul and I are…you know?"

"So what? You aren't, Christine," Meg said haughtily, "just ignore all of them, you're just staying with him because of everything that happened."

"Still, maybe I shouldn't be staying with him. I could always come back," she said, "everyone says that the ghost is gone and you and Madame are here. Maybe it will be better."

"Christine," Meg said, taking her friend's hands, "don't come back just because of what they're saying. Its your choice, Christine. Remember that."

"I know, but it would be better," she said, "I know his parents don't approve of me living with him. It will be best for all of us. I'll still see him, it will just be easier."

* * *

Antoinette sighed as the dancers all returned to the change room. The performance was the next day and the Christmas break was fast approaching. And then she would watch everyone go away, to see their families until after new years. 

"You look deep in thought," Monsieur Reyer commented.

"Just thinking about the holidays," she admitted.

"Ah, thinking of going somewhere special?" he asked.

"Well, I'd have to be back for the masquerade, so I cannot go anywhere too far away," she sighed, "but perhaps, somewhere not far from the city."

"What about home?" he asked, "have you ever thought about returning to your home town?"

"Hmm, I have not been there in many years," she sighed, "not since Meg was five. I have to admit. My parents were not very happy when I had her. I suppose I was a bit young."

"So no one to return to," Monsieur Reyes said, nodding his head, "that is a shame."

"No, I do have a good friend back in that area," she said with a small smile, a priest, of al people."

"And how do you know him?"

"He was a few years older then I and we became good friends when I lived there. We continue our friendship, even though we almost never see one another. Perhaps I will go and visit again. It would be nice to speak with an old friend again. Merci."

"You are welcome Madame," he said with a grim smile, "I will see you tomorrow."

Antoinette nodded and went back to her apartment. It would be nice to go and visit her friend again, after all, she had not heard from Erik since the night of _Il Muto_. With a small sigh she decided that she would take Meg to visit the small town. After all, she had not been to confession in a long time, and sometimes it felt better to confess to an old friend.

* * *

Christine rubbed her eyes sleepily as she went down for breakfast. Raoul greeted her with a kiss and she offered a weak smile, "Raoul, I have to tell you something." 

"What Is it?" he asked, brow furrowing at her uncertainty.

"I-I want to go back to the theatre, to live, I mean," she said.

"But, Christine," he argued, "why would you want to do that?"

"It would just be easier, especially once the new season starts," she explained, "and besides…it would just be better that way."

"Is its what you really want," he said quietly, "then that's fine with me."

"We can still see each other," she said with a smile, "you can visit, or I can visit. It will just be-"

"Easier," he finished, knowing very well why she was saying this now, "I know, Little Lotte."

"I'll just, pack my things then. Thank you for understanding."

The performance went well and practises continued. They were to do one more dance before the Christmas holidays in a small mêlée of dancing, singing and orchestrated music.

Christine found that seeing Raoul was more difficult then she had imagined, but they went out for dinner once a week, and he would come whenever he could. Whenever he was there the theatre seemed less frightening and she would show him all of her favourite places. The ones that her and Meg had discovered during their explorations of the theatre.

She took him high above the stage, among the rafters and onto the roof. But she made sure to stay away from the cellars. She knew that Raoul still didn't believe in the phantom, but she knew he was real and she knew where he lived. Bellow the theatre, in the shadows.

Even with everyone saying that he had left, just disappeared, she was still nervous and made sure to stay with Meg or Raoul as much as possible. She jumped at every shadow or sudden noise or movement.

* * *

"Come on Christine!" Meg exclaimed on night, grabbing her friend's hand and dragging her out of the dormitory. 

"Meg! Where are we going?" she asked as she was pulled through the theatre.

"Just follow me," she said, leading her up through the stories of the theatre.

"Are we going to the roof?" Christine asked, bewildered by her friend's behaviour.

"Shhh, just come," Meg said, pushing open the door the roof and pulling her outside, "look."

"Its snowing," Christine smiled.

"Yeah, the second snow of the year," Meg said, "I thought you'd want to see it. Remember when we were little? We'd always rush outside in the winter, just to see if it had snowed, or was snowing."

"Yeah, after rehearsals, or before lessons. Or right before bed, or first thing in the morning," Christine said, "how could I forget? We always froze because we wouldn't take our coats."

"And what are you two doing up here?" Antoinette asked.

"Maman!" Meg exclaimed, "oh, we were just looking at the snow."

"I see," Antoinette replied, "you should be in bed, no?"

"Sorry," Christine said.

"That is alright my dears," Antoinette sighed, "I admit, it is nice to watch the snow falling at night."

"its just so peaceful," Meg sighed, "we'll go to bed now."

"Good night you two," Antoinette smiled, "sleep well."

Once they were gone she sighed and watched the snow fall on the city bellow. All she could think was that Erik would have loved it. He had always loved the snow. When he was young he always asked if it had snowed, especially near the beginning of the winter.

"It is snowing my friend," she sighed, watching her breath turn to vapour, "and where are you?"

She knew the answer, he was down bellow somewhere, doing something. She wondered what, perhaps composing, or moping. Yes, he had been a very good moper in his youth. But she doubted that he was just moping. Not even Erik could mope for such a long time.

With a final glance at the city she went back inside. Soon enough they would all find out what he had been up to. And if she had any sense as to how Erik acted, she expected him to return at the masquerade, and she expected him to cause quite the scene.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, this was going to be up like two days ago, but then there were complications. Sorry for the long wait, but here it is, hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review, love ya all.**


	8. VIII

VIII

The snow drifted through down on the streets of Paris as Meg watched out the window with Christine. With a sigh she turned away and noticed that her friend hadn't been paying attention to the grey sky. Instead she had her eyes focussed off on some unseen object.

"Maman and I are leaving tomorrow," Meg sighed, "she says that you can come if you want."

"Hmm?" Christine asked, turning towards her friend, "pardon?"

"On our trip, for Christmas," Meg clarified, "maman said that you could come. We'll be back in time for the masquerade."

"Maybe," Christine muttered, "Raoul will be away until the masquerade…so I guess I'd be here alone."

"It'll be fun," Meg said encouragingly, "its in the country, but not too far. We'll be able to go skating and go for rides in the snow. When was the last time we did any of that?"

"A while ago, I guess," Christine replied, "it would be fine, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, and maman said that she has an old friend out there," meg replied, "so we'll be staying there. She says he's a priest."

"A priest?" Christine repeated.

"I know, I was a bit surprised too," Meg giggled, "but apparently they were friends when they were younger. I kind of remember someone, from the last time I went."

"When was that?"

"A long time ago, when I was five I think," Meg replied, "but I'm not really sure. Come on, lets go tell maman that you're coming!"

"Are you sure it won't be any trouble?" Christine asked, biting her lip, "I really don't want to be any trouble. Raoul said I could go with his family, if I really wanted, or didn't have any plans."

"Not at all!" Meg exclaimed, pulling her friend off her bed, "come on. Its been so long since we spent time together. A few days will be fun. Please, Christine?"

"Well, alright…come on, lets tell Madame!"

* * *

Raoul smiled and rubbed Christine's shoulders, "Are you sure, Christine?"

"Of course," she replied.

"But, Christine, I wanted you to join my family for the holidays," he sighed, "and what about the Bal Masque? We were going to go."

"We still are," she explained, "we'll be back before that and we can spend time together then. I just think it's a bit too soon to be spending so much time with your family, and I haven't spent a lot of time with Meg lately, and she's my best friend."

Raoul sighed, "I understand, just be careful."

"Nothing bad will happen," Christine assured him, "we'll be with Madame, and she would never let anything bad happen to us."

"Have a good time then," he said, kissing her cheek ad squeezing her hands, "so, to supper?"

Christine smiled and nodded her head, "Yes, supper then."

* * *

Antoinette double checked that everything was packed, for both her and the two girls. When she was confident that everything was in order she started to take the things down to the carriage waiting in the stable.

"Good morning!" Meg said cheerfully, taking one of the bags.

"So you are ready?" Antoinette asked, "and where is Christine?"

"She's just getting ready," Meg replied, "she said she'd be down in a minute."

"That is good, could you go and get her? We are leaving as soon as you are both ready."

"Of course," Meg smiled, jogging off in the direction of the dormitory.

* * *

Christine quickly put on her cloak and nearly ran into Meg as she entered the room. Meg laughed and gave her a quick apology, "Sorry, I'm supposed to be getting you."

"That's fine," Christine assured her, "come on, we should get going. Madame won't be happy if we get there late."

"Certainly not," Meg agreed, "so, was Raoul fine with you coming?"

"Yes," Christine said, "he understood, I think."

"That's good," Meg said with a smile. It will be a lot of fun. We can go ice skating and have a snow fight and then drink hot cocoa and sit by the fire at night. It will be so nice after spending so many years stuck in this dull place for the holidays."

Christine nodded her head in agreement. It would be nice to get out of the theatre for Christmas, they had spent far too many sad holidays in the dormitory. Perhaps going out for the day to stroll the streets.

Still she felt guilty for not going with Raoul for the holidays. But she told herself that it was better not to go. After all his family really didn't like her, she knew that. But that was only half the reason. The other half was the man who was no doubt still in the dark, damp bowels of the opera house. She didn't know why, but she felt so sorry for him, like by spending the holidays with Raoul it would somehow be betraying him. It was foolish, she knew that. She had already done all the damage she could, but he had always been there for her at Christmas when no one else was.

"Oh, was a pretty necklace!" meg exclaimed, "when did you get that?"

Christine blinked and noticed that she had been fiddling with the small gold chain around her neck. She lifted up the small music note charm that rested on it and gave a small smile, "Oh, thank you. I've had it for quite some time now…I guess I just never wore it that much. It was a gift."

"Hurry up!" Antoinette's voce rang through the hall.

"Oops!" Meg and Christine both said, and jogged towards the stable. The coach was already waiting for then, along with Raoul.

"I came to say goodbye," he said, "and give you your gift, Christine."

"My gift?" she asked.

Raoul held out a small box wrapped with a bright red ribbon. Christine smiled and undid the bow, lifting the lip to reveal a small piece of jewellery.

"Its gorgeous!" she exclaimed, pulling out a silver chain with a small charm on the end. When she examined it she saw that it was a small butterfly embedded with tiny diamonds, "Raoul, this is beautiful."

"I had hoped you would like it," he smiled, "do you want me to put it on?"

Christine shook her head and put it on herself, adjusting it so the butterfly sat just beneath the golden music note. She looked down on it in admiration and smiled, stealing a final kiss from Raoul before he helped her into the carriage.

"Have a good trip," he said, "all of you."

"We will!" Meg beamed.

"I love you," he said to Christine.

She nodded her head, "I love you too."

As the carriage began to jostle along Christine fiddled with the small butterfly. It was truly beautiful, more than she thought she deserved. Then she looked at the music not and took off the necklace that it lay on. She looked at the gold chain and ran her finger over the smooth surface of the charm.

"What are you doing?" Meg asked.

"It didn't really fit anymore," she murmured.

"So?"

Christine tucked the necklace away in a hidden pocket of her dress, "I just won't wear it anymore," she said.

"it was a beautiful necklace," Antoinette said, "it would be a shame not to wear it. It did not appear to be too small."

Christine sighed and looked out the window. She didn't want to explain herself and decided to just shrug her shoulders. It wasn't right to wear the necklace with Raoul's, bur she wasn't ready to get rid of it. Not just yet.

"Suit yourself," Antoinette said quietly.

Christine didn't reply again and just continued to stare out the window. She could barely contain a small smile, her new hobby. In two more days it would be Christmas, then she would be staring out the window of a strange house and remembering the last Christmas she had had with her father. It was a kind of tradition.

* * *

Erik sighed as he stared at the designs in front of him. Sketched of stages and costumes. Not far off lay the nearly completed opera. All it needed now was a few small tweaks, just the absolute final go over and it would be perfect. So would the sets and costumes. It would all be perfect, as would its presentation.

Over on the table beside him, beside the costume of red death was the unfinished mask. He had, for a very brief moment, considered just not wearing a mask. Yes, that would have been terrifying indeed. Perhaps he could even get someone to faint. But he didn't want to do that, he hated degrading himself and refused to do it. No, the skull-like mask would do well. All he had to do was smear black paint around his eyes to make it work perfectly.

With a heavy sigh he finally got up and stretch, hearing his bones crack and creak. His leg was asleep and nearly buckled when he took a step. With a heavy groan he removed his mask and rubbed his hands over his face.

"God," he moaned as the feeling started to creep back into his leg. It was then that he decided to go to bed. He knew what day it was and didn't even want to bother thinking about it. A day when everyone else was eating with family or singing carols. No, it was best to just sleep through such days. So that was what he did, he went to bed.


	9. IX

IX

Antoinette sat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Across from her was her old friend, she sighed and murmured, "Bless me father, for I have sinned."

He chuckled lightly, "Shouldn't this be done in anonymity?"

"Would it really be anonymous?" she queried, "after all, we have been friends for a long time. Mostly I just wish to get some things off my chest, and I know that you will understand."

"Very well," he said, "what is it, Anny? What has been bothering you?"

"A friend of mine, actually," she said, "a man I have known since we were very young."

"And what has he done?"

"What hasn't he done?" she groaned, "he does not tell me what he does, but I know. He blackmails and steals, he manipulates those around him, he terrifies people, even me at times, he has killed. I know this, I saw him do it once, but that was self defence, I know that that could be justified, but lately? No, I know that he has killed people who were, if not innocent, at least undeserving."

"And how does this involve you?" her friend asked.

"Because, I could stop it," she frowned, "if I just told the police, or the managers, I could stop everything. But I cannot, I have thought of it many times, debated it, but in the end I have never been able to turn him in. He told me once it was because if I told anyone then I would lose my job, and then I would not be able to support myself or my daughter, but that isn't it. I cannot turn him in because I care for him. Every time I think of it I can see that little boy in the cage, the little boy who was terrified, and desperate. And I know that he is not that person anymore, I know that he has grown up, and changed…but I still see him, so young and afraid, and wondrous. I do not know what I should do, Pierre."

Pierre nodded his head as he mulled through what she had said, "Neither do I," he admitted, "this isn't something easy for you, Antoinette, and I can't tell you what to do."

"I know," she replied, looking out the window, "but at least I got it all off my chest."

He smiled and rubbed his hazel eyes, "Yes, sometimes that is all you need, no?"

"Indeed."

* * *

Christine laughed as a snowball flew past her head, "Meg!" 

"Sorry," Meg laughed, "I couldn't help myself."

Christine lobbed her own handful of snow at her friend, missing by at least a metre, "Neither could I."

Both girls giggled and sat down in the snowdrift by the small pond. It turned out that their mother's friend, Pierre, was living with widow and her daughter on their farm. It was a nice place and they watched the three cows shuffle through the snow, nosing it around to find the grass beneath, ignoring the hay that was scattered in the field for them.

"Its so lovely here," Meg sighed, "I wish we could stay longer."

"And miss the masquerade?" Christine asked.

"You're right," Meg laughed, "I'd never miss that."

They sighed and watched a pair of horses kick play in the field. A younger black one kicking up its heels, rearing and bucking as the heavy draft horse ignored it.

"Do you like it here?" Meg asked.

"A lot," Christine admitted. For once, in a very long time she wasn't constantly looking over her shoulder or jumping at the smallest noise or shadow, "but my toes are frozen."

"Then we should skate some more," Meg said, "it'll warm our toes up."

"Of course," Christine said, "just like dunking our feet in a bucket of freezing water would."

"Oh come on," Meg pouted, "we only have three more days left out here. I want to make the most of them."

"Fine," Christine sighed, "but Madame will kill us if we get frostbite."

* * *

Three days passed quickly and they found themselves packing to leave before they knew it. The carriage was loaded and goodbyes were said. 

"I'll miss you," Pierre said, hugging Antoinette tightly, "be safe."

"Of course," she replied, "you too."

"Of course, and goodbye girls," he added, "I hope you enjoy your party. You will both make fine dancers someday. Who knows, maybe you'll even make prima donnas."

"Thank you," Meg said, with a huge smile, "and thank you for having us!"

"Yes," Christine agreed, "it was very kind of you."

"Think nothing of it," he said, "it was my pleasure."

The carriage rattled off and Meg turned to her mother, "He is a priest, right?"

"Yes," Antoinette said.

"Well, then why is he living with another woman, and a daughter?"

Antoinette laughed, "He is helping them with the farm," she said, "after her husband died Colette was having a hard time, so Pierre agreed to help her. He used to work on a farm, so he knows what to do."

"Oh," Meg said, blushing a bit, "that-that makes sense."

Christine elbowed her friend gently and turned to look out the window. She could barely see anything through the condensation and the frost, but it didn't bother her. Now she was worried about returning to the theatre, the place that seemed, now more than ever, like a prison.

* * *

Erik sighed and paced the lair. It was finished, finally finished. All the music, the lyrics, the costume designs. All finished. He refused to work on it anymore, it was bound and ready to be given to the managers. No matter what he would not go back to that opera and edit it anymore. 

"Maybe just…" he growled and shook his head, quickly grabbing his cloak and putting it on, "no! Perhaps I will go and get something to eat." His stomach clenched in hunger and he nodded his head. Yes, he would go and get something to eat.

The theatre was empty except for the cleaning ladies and those who had no where to go for the holidays. It made getting around easier. Less dodging into the shadows, or creeping through hallways that were almost never used.

He made his way to the kitchen and snatched up a few pieces of bread and some cheese. It wasn't the most delightful meal, but it was food, and that would do.

As he ate he ran through his plans for the masquerade. She would e there, he knew it, and she would be there with that damned boy. But that didn't matter, no, not really, because he would get her back. He loved her, and that was what really mattered. She loved him too, she had to love him. He had seen it in her eyes that night. She was just confused, but he could fix that, he would show her that he really wasn't such a terrible person.

Voices jolted him from his thoughts and he slid into the shadows and three people passed him. Antoinette, her daughter and…Christine. He shook his head and tried to calculate the day. Had time passed that quickly?

"Oh, Christine!" Meg exclaimed, "I can't wait. Maman has gotten me a lovely dress. I even got to pick it."

"You're so lucky," Christine said, "I don't' know what I'll be wearing."

"No doubt the vicomte will have something for you," Antoinette said, "now go put your things away. It is getting late."

They murmured their agreements and hurried off. Erik scowled and stalked away. He would eliminate that boy from the picture, the only real question was how he would do so. He wouldn't kill him, no, that would upset her too much. Perhaps he would just scare him off. That certainly couldn't be too hard.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry its been so long, but I have been working on other things and my dad misplaced my cd with all my work on it...for some reason putting it in it's case was just too difficult! Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter and will drop a review.**


	10. X

X

"Oh, Raoul, its gorgeous!" Christine exclaimed, looking at the dress she would wear for the masquerade, "you really shouldn't have."

"Nonsense," he said, smiling brightly, "you have to try it on, still. The party is tonight."

Christine nodded her head, still to busy staring at the dress to really listen to what Raoul was saying. Pink and lacy, it was everything she would have dreamed of as a child. It was absolutely gorgeous, far more than she thought she deserved.

"Well?" Raoul prodded.

"Oh, pardon?" she asked, turning away from the dress.

"Try it on," he repeated, "I'll have the maid help you into it."

"Oh, yes of course."

He smiled and kissed her before going off to get a maid. Christine turned back to the dress and inspected it. Two hours, that was all she had before she would be at the Bal Masque. True, as children her and Meg had dreamed of going. Even going as far as sneaking it to enjoy it. Now though, well, the thought of an entire room of masked people frightened her. Anyone could be there…anyone.

"Mademoiselle?" a maid asked, "I'm here to help you into the dress."

"Oh, thank you," Christine murmured.

* * *

The carriage jostled down the street, towards the theatre. Christine watched out the window as other carriages trotted past them, heading to, or coming from the theatre. Raoul was sitting beside her, twisting his fingers together. 

"Christine," he said, reaching into his pocket, "I was thinking…"

"What?" she asked.

Raoul pulled something out of his pocket and smiled at her, "Why don't we get married?"

"Christine stared at him for a moment, "What? Married?"

"Yes," he said firmly, "I love, Christine, and you love me, don't you?"

"Of course but…" she bit her lip, "I don't think-"

"It would be wise?" he asked, shaking his head, "no, of course not. My family would be unhappy, but I love you, Christine."

"Raoul…its complicated, but I-"

"I know," he sighed, "I just though that, perhaps-"

"Sir?" the driver asked, holding the door of the carriage open.

"Yes," he sighed, stepping out and offering Christine his hand. The party had already started and most people were inside.

Christine followed him in, hand resting in the crook of his arm. She felt guilty to have disappointed him so, and on the night of the grandest party in Paris. Once inside she turned to him, "Yes."

"Yes?" Raoul asked.

"Let us get engaged," she replied, "but lets keep it a secret, for now at least. Wouldn't that be splendid?"

Raoul smiled and took out a ring. For a moment Christine could only stare at the beautiful piece of jewellery. Then she accepted it, removing her necklace and sliding the ring onto the chain before putting it back on. Then they hurried into the crowd.

"Think of it," she gasped, looking at the ring, "a secret engagement! Look, your future bride. Just think of it."

"But why is it secret?" Raoul asked, "what have we to hide? You promised me," he said, leaning in to kiss her.

"No, Raoul, please don't. They'll see."

"Then let them see! Its an engagement, not a crime," he reasoned, "Christine, what are you afraid of?"

"Lets not argue," she said, pulling him towards the dance floor, "please pretend, you will understand in time."

"I can only hope that I will understand in time," he sighed.

* * *

Erik glared at his own reflection in the mirror, smearing black greasepaint around his eyes before putting on the mask. He blinked a few times, as some of the paint had gotten in his eyes. Then, with a frown at his own reflection, he took the skull mask and put it on. 

"My big debut," he muttered, grabbing the folio with his opera in it.

Everything was ready, his costume was perfect, his opera was perfect and his plan, well, it could not fail. With a smirk he got into the gondola and started the trek up to the theatre and the party above.

It was splendid, as it always was, dancers, singers, aristocrats dancing in magnificent costumes of all sorts. Golds, silvers, blacks and whites. It was all very beautiful, just as it always was, and always would be.

He remained off to the side, observing from the shadows, waiting for the right moment. A few people passed by him, making large arcs to avoid getting too close. His burning eyes did not discourage this, in fact they were most likely the reason why they avoided him.

Below him they were celebrating, and, if he heard correctly, they were celebrating his absence about the theatre for the past six months. He scowled, in those six months they still had not paid him.

As the music began to die he slid out from his hiding place, causing the people below to gasp and the managers to freeze.

"Why so silent, good messieurs?" he sang, "did you think that I had left you for good? Did you miss me, good messieurs? I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score, Don Juan Triumphant!" at those words he drew his sword and flung the leather binding to the floor, allowing a few of the sheets to slide out.

He peered around the room, taking in the shocked and terrified expressions with glee, "Fondest greeting to you all. A few instructions, just before rehearsals start. Carlotta must be taught to act. Not her normal trick of strutting round the stage," he snarled, pointing the tip of the sword into the feather of her hat and wriggling it back and forth, much to the insult of her and Piangi. He turned quickly, jabbing the point into the tenor's belly, "Our Don Juan must lose some weight, its not healthy in a man of Piangi's age." Next he turned to the managers, brandishing his sword menacingly, "And my managers must learn that their place is in an office. Not the arts! And as for our star, miss Christine Daae."

He spoke these word gently, sheathing the sword and turning to a transfixed Christine, staring up at him from the stairs.

"No doubt she'll do her best. Its true, her voice is good. She knows though, should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn, if pride will let her return to me. Her teacher, her teacher…"

There was a long pause in which they simply stared into each others eyes. Christine had stepped towards him as Raoul had run off. Everyone else was watching them as well, some shocked, others teary eyed and others, such as Meg, simply confused.

Erik pleaded silently with her, then his eyes trailed down to something glinting on the end of a chain. He could feel his anger return, bubbling up inside his like a volcano about to erupt. An engagement ring, hidden on a chain. He bore his teeth and reached out, tearing it from around her neck.

"Your chains are still mine! You belong to me!"

Christine gasped as he turned away, positioning himself on the trap door. In a swift movement he gathered his cape and ducked his head. As flames seemed to engulf him, he dropped into the mirrored chamber bellow. To his great pleasure, the boy followed him.

* * *

Antoinette watched the entire event as if it were a dream. She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes at Erik's desperate plea. Perhaps he really did love her, and perhaps she loved him. But the way he went about it was so terribly wrong. 

Even as he disappeared into the wall of flames she had turned and was heading to the proper pathway. She had seen the boy running towards it, and heard another gasp as he jumped through the trap door.

The only reason she knew the way through the cobweb infested tunnels was because of Erik. When he had first completed the mirrored chamber, years before, he had shown it to her. Proud of his work, as he had a right to be, it really was amazing what he could do. But dangerous, terribly dangerous. After only a few minutes in the room she had become disoriented and panicked. But Erik had shown her how to find her way through the maze.

When she saw the boy, sword drawn and turning frantically, noose hanging in every reflecting she shook her head. Grabbing his elbow gently, she pulled him away and led him out of the room.

She led Raoul back through the tunnel and then made to go back to her apartment, to her disappointment, Raoul followed her.

"Madame Giry, wait…" he called.

"Please, Monsieur- I know no more than anyone else," she said hurriedly.

That's not true!" he replied irritably.

"Please, Monsieur, don't ask, there have been too many accidents . . ."

"Accidents?" he asked incredulously, blocking her escape, "Please, Madame Giry, for all our sakes . . ."

Antoinette looked around nervously before ushering him into her room. She never knew what was lurking in the shadows or the walls. She turned the light up in her room and allowed him to take a seat as she began.

"Very well, Very well. It was years ago. There was a traveling  
fair in the city. The gypsies. I was very young, studying to be a ballerina. One of many living in the dormitories of the opera house…"

* * *

Christine remained frozen in terror for a few moments, then she felt Meg's hand on her arm, "Come on," she urged gently, "lets go somewhere quiet." 

Christine nodded dumbly and allowed Meg to lead her off, already the commotion in the hall had started, the music beginning again, though a bit weakly. The managers had taken the opera and hurried off. The event had frightened them, and they put the manuscript in their office before returning.

"Are you alright?" Meg asked as they sat down in the ballet practice room.

"I-I think so," Christine said, touching the spot where the chain had once hung. For some reason she felt immensely guilty, more so than anything else.

"Is-is it true?" Meg asked carefully, "that, well, that _he _was your tutor?"

"Yes," Christine replied quietly even as tears began to stream down her cheeks.

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence, in which Christine wiped her eyes and Meg stared at her hands. Neither knew what to say.

"Maybe we should go to bed," Meg murmured, "its late."

"Maybe," Christine agreed, "Meg?"

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry."

Meg smiled at her, a weak unconvincing smile, "For what? You have no reason to be sorry, Christine. Come on, lets go to bed. Maman said she's take care of Raoul."

"How?" Christine asked eagerly, suddenly worried, "is her alright?"

"I don't know, I think so."

They exited the practise room and ran into Antoinette and Raoul. With a relieved sigh Christine and Raoul embraced. Antoinette watched the two with weary eyes.

"Time for bed," Antoinette said sternly, "and remember, Monsieur de Changy, you promised."

"Of course. Good night, Christine, will you be alright?"

Christine nodded her head, "Mmm hmm. Good night."

* * *

**A/N: Wow, sorry for the really long absence, but school is very hectic at the moment. I had a huge history summative to work on, which included ten journals and a report, and physic is, as always, horrible! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll probably not update again until after exams. Please review!**


	11. Part Two: Reality

Part Two: Reality

XI

"This is insane!" Monsieur Reyer cried, waving the music in front of the managers' noses, "have you looked at this?"

Andre snatched the score from the conductor and placed it on the desk where he began to flip through the sheets, "This is ludicrous! Have you seen this score?" he asked, turning to Firmin.

"Its simply ludicrous," he agreed, looking at it over Andre's shoulder.

"This is the final straw!" Andre said firmly, "it is insane."

"Lunacy," Firmin agreed, "well, you know my views. I say-"

"No," Monsieur Reyer cut in hastily, "we daren't refuse. Who knows what he will do to us."

Both managers sighed and shook their heads angrily. Andre groaned, "So, we are to perform this, this…I don't even know what to call it!"

"An opera,' Antoinette said dryly, entering the office, "messieurs, I have two notes."

"Notes?" Andre asked, "oh, and what do they say this time?"

Antoinette opened one and began to read it, "'Dear Andre, Re my orchestrations: We need another first bassoon. Get a player with tone - and that third trombone has to go! The man could not be deafer, so please preferably one who plays in tune!'"

She then placed the first note on the desk and opened the next, clearing her throat, "'Dear Firmin, vis a vis my opera: some chorus-members must be sacked. If you could, find out which has a sense of pitch - wisely, though, I've managed to assign a rather minor role to those who cannot act!'"

"Oh, so he rhymes his letters now?" Andre muttered, "wonderful. Tell me, is this man completely insane?"

"I would assume so," Firmin grumbled.

"Good luck, gentlemen," Antoinette said, turning to leave, "and good day."

She was almost at the door when it burst open and a very angry Carlotta stormed in, Piangi following closely behind.

"Outrage!" she shrieked, "this whole affair is an outrage! Have you seen the size of my part."

"Signora please…"Andre moaned.

"Now what's the matter?" Firmin asked, trying to sound concerned.

"Its an insult!" Piangi boomed.

"Not you as well, what's an insult?" Andre asked exasperated.

"Signor, Signora," Firmin said, with a strained smile, "I'm sure we can work this out."

"The things I have to do for my art," Carlotta moaned.

"If you can call this gibberish art," Piangi added.

"Please!" Andre half shouted, "if you would stop ranting and explain what the problem is. Some one?"

"I tell you, it is the size of my part," Carlotta repeated haughtily, "Look at it!"

Andre rolled his eyes, "I know what your part is, _he_ made it very clear last night. Miss Daae will be playing the lead. Then, he made it very clear again this morning."

"Christine Daae," Carlotta spat, "she does not have the voice."

"Perhaps not but-" Firmin began.

"She is behind all this!" Carlotta exclaimed, "to further her own worthless career! Christine Daae!"

* * *

"How dare she!" Christine hissed, "that evil woman!" 

"Shh, Christine they'll hear us," Meg whispered, stepping back from the door.

"Why would I even want to take part in this plot?" Christine asked, "I hate it. This isn't my plot, and I don't' want any part in it. I don't want to sing in this opera."

"I know," Meg said, "and you don't have to. Just tell them you can't do it."

"No…I have to," Christine said, turning away from her friend, "if I don't then…terrible things will happen, and I can't let that happen."

Meg nodded her head and placed a hand on Christine's shoulder, "Then come on, we'll go get some tea and you can think this over."

Christine nodded and went back to the dormitory with Meg. She had been looking at the music that morning, after she had been given her copy to memorize. The music was insane, but the notes were written as if just for her. The lyrics were another thing though, she had felt uncomfortable reading them, let alone performing them next to Piangi. Still, she found that she didn't not want to perform the opera, _his_ opera.

"So, have you looked at the score yet?" Meg asked, sitting on her bed.

"Yes, and its…interesting," Christine said.

"Everyone seemed really incensed by it," Meg said, "are they just overreacting, or is there and actual reason behind it?"

"Umm, I think a bit of both," Christine said, flipping though her score again, "it's a bit…I don't know, different, I guess."

"Could you, sing a bit of it?" Meg asked tentatively, "I just want to know why its so…controversial?"

"I guess…just understand, I don't' exactly know it yet. I'll be sight-reading. So it may not sound very good," Christine explained.

"I know, I just want an idea. You could just read the lyrics, if you wanted."

Christine nodded her head and found the right key, "Past the point of no return - no going back now: our passion-play has now, at last, begun . . . Past all thought of right or wrong - one final question: how long should we two wait, before we're one?"

Christine trailed off and it her lip nervously, "There's more too, before that, that Don Juan sings. Its all very similar."

"I see," Meg murmured, "Christine, why don't we go out to the café and get a treat?"

"Alright, I guess that would be fun."

"It'll be like the old days," Meg said, "when we used to have to sneak out. Come on!"

* * *

Antoinette shook her head irritably as the debate continued, "Why would Miss Daae wish this upon anyone? You are being foolish." 

"No we are not!" Andre growled, "we are being sensible. Think of it, who has benefited from all this? Miss Daae."

"She has also suffered," Antoinette sighed, "do you not see that?"

"No I do not," Firmin stated, "you stick to ballet."

"Unless…"Andre said thoughtfully, "you could help us. Help us turn the tide on this madman!"

"This is madness," Antoinette said, "there is no way of turning the tide, Messieurs."

"No?" Firmin asked, "and why not. Instead of warning us, help us."

"I wish I could," Antoinette replied.

"Stop making excuses," Andre snapped, "and help us. Unless you're on his side."

"I assure you, I intend no ill…" Antoinette sighed, "but be careful, we have seen him kill, Messieurs."

"What are we to do?" Monsieur Reyer asked, "we cannot refuse him, but it seems foolish to go through with this."

"I do not know!" Firmin groaned, "lets just start rehearsals. We can decide at a later date whether or not we will actually have it performed for an audience."

"Yes," Andre agreed, "that should keep him happy, or a while. Though I have my doubts about this opera."

"It will certainly capture the audience's attention," Antoinette said, "now, if you will excuse me, I have lessons to teach and choreography to look over. Au revoir, Messieurs."

Antoinette left and returned to her room. She had her score sitting on a table and picked it up, dropping into her armchair and rubbing her temples. She had already reviewed what Erik had requested, and it was far from what she would call appropriate.

"You have truly gone mad," she sighed, "and I see no way to get through to you."

With a groan she started or review the costumes, music and choreography. They already had a small performance in two weeks, after that they had decided to start official rehearsals for _Don Juan_. It was to open at the end of March, if it was to open at all. Antoinette only hoped it would all go well.

"Madame?" a young ballerina asked, knocking on her door.

"Yes?" she asked, getting up and opening the door.

"Oh, we-we're just ready for rehearsal," she stammered, "Monsieur Reyer and the orchestra are ready also."

"Thank you, I will be there in a minute," she replied, "go stretch and warm up."

The ballerina nodded and scampered off. Antoinette sighed and snatched a paper from the small table. It was a list of dancers Erik had selected for _Don Juan_. They were some of her most experienced and most mature. To her dismay, Meg was one of the dancers selected, and one of the leads, for that matter.

"We shall see," she murmured, replacing the paper, "we shall see."

* * *

**A/N: Well, hope you enjoyed this chapter, I had fun writing it...I don't know why exactly, but I did. Anyways, school is out, exams are finished and I thinkI passed physics! A miracle in itself. So now I have lots of time to write, chapters should be able to update more often now. Please drop me a review.**


	12. XII

XII

The old chapel sat empty, a candle flickering dully off to one side, no one had been there in a long time. Above the chapel the tunnels remained unused, gathering more dust and cobwebs than before.

"Christine, I'd rather you didn't," Raoul worried, "you told me this was where you used to meet."

"I know, Raoul. But I haven't gone down in so long, I have to. I have to pray for my father," she said gently, "I won't be long, you can wait right up here."

Raoul sighed heavily as Christine slipped down the stairs and to the old chapel. It was just as she remembered it. Small and cold. With a careful look around she went over to her father's candle and sat in front of it.

"Hello, father," she murmured, lighting the candle, "I'm sorry I haven't visited in a while, but things have gotten terribly busy here."

She stopped there and looked around the room again, listening carefully for any noise. The whisper of fabric, the light tapping of shoes. Anything that might suggest that someone else was there with her.

"You promised me an angel," she said, biting back tears, "and instead I have been sent a devil…I'm frightened. I don't' know what to do anymore. Everything used to seem so clear, so perfect but not anymore. I can't stand to be alone for fear of him. I jump at every shadow, I have to look over my shoulder and around every corner. It's driving me mad…Raoul won't leave me though, he insist to stay here and protect me. I'm so glad for that."

She paused again, listening carefully. She could hear Raoul pacing at the top of the stairs. His shoes clacking loudly against the floor. It gave her a sort of comfort, reminded her that she wasn't alone.

"I miss you," she continued, "I still miss you so much, I wish you had never left me. But I guess I can't turn back time…I have to go now, Raoul is waiting. We're to go out to supper tonight and its getting late. We just finished a small performance and we're to start rehearsals for a new opera tomorrow…his opera. Good night, papa, I'll come again soon."

With that she blew out the candle and said a quick prayer, then she hurried back up the stairs to an anxiously waiting Raoul. He greeted her with a small smile and a peck on the cheek. Christine returned the smile and began to follow him to the front doors.

* * *

Antoinette sighed as she cleaned up the dressing room. Picking up discarded shoes and tossing them into a small pile. They were useless now, so she would have them thrown away the next day.

"Maman?" Meg asked, poking her head in the door.

"Yes, my dear?"

"I wanted to ask if Rosie and I could go over to the café across the street. Its not that far and we won't be out long."

"I would rather you didn't," Antoinette sighed, "but, perhaps if Gabriel will go with you?"

"Thank you, maman!" Meg exclaimed, "I'll ask. We won't be out long, I know lights are to be out in an hour."

"Very well, have fun."

"We will."

Antoinette smiled slightly and threw a last pair of shoes into the corner before leaving the room. She could always clean up the next day, she was tired now and wanted nothing more than to have a cup of tea and go to bed.

As she walked she passed Raoul and Christine on their way to supper. Christine said a polite good night, and Raoul offered the slightest bow and a murmured greeting. Antoinette didn't expect anything more from him, so she continued on her way, passing Meg, Rosie and Gabriel going out. They each said a good night as they went, giggling among themselves. She was about to turn to her room when she spotted the entrance to the small chapel. She decided to go there instead, she hadn't been down there in some time.

She lit a candle for Jules, and said a small prayer for him. Then she took a moment to just sit and rest. The chapel held so many memories for her. Of when she had first rescued Erik, how he had been so frightened and timid.

"Is only he had stayed that way," she sighed, "so much trouble now…so much trouble."

Bt he had always been trouble, from the day he had arrived in the theatre. She had had to keep him a secret, found him food and clothes. He had quickly become too curious for his own good, revelling in the challenge of climbing through the ropes high above the ground. Discovering and creating secret tunnels and secret rooms. There was always something to get into and he had always found it. She could still remember the time he cracked a rib due to his adventures, or cut his hand open while working with the glass for his mirrored hell.

"Never learned," she clucked, "not then…and not now. It is such a shame, he could have been so much more than this."

She watched the candle's flame flicker, casting strange shadows on the wall. It made her a bit nervous. It was strange, but she had taken to looking over her shoulder along with the rest, or starting at the shadows in the halls.

"I pray you come to your senses, my friend," she muttered, blowing out the candle, "we all pray."

* * *

Erik found himself wandering through the empty tunnels of the theatre. He hadn't watched the performance, he hadn't watched any performances in a long time. Instead he had walked through the secret passageways and empty halls of the theatre. Hoping to find some stray ballet rat or staff to terrorize. He had had no such luck.

Once the performance had ended he had been forced back into the walls to avoid any unwanted sightings. One or two people he could deal with easily, perhaps even six, if he had to. But even he lost confidence at an entire theatre.

Tomorrow they would start his opera, and he had so many plans for that performance. He would watch every rehearsal, critique every little detail and demand absolute perfection no matter what. And they would listen, or suffer the consequences.

He followed an older tunnel, one that was more caked with dust than most from disuse. He immediately recognized its destination and slowed down. Just up ahead was the chapel, and the vantage point from which he had so often watched Christine. His Christine.

There was a sound from up ahead, and he couldn't help himself, he hurried forward, ducking under the largest cobwebs and brushing the rest to the side. When he arrived he saw only Antoinette leaving the chapel, and a small twisting column of smoke rising from a burnt candle.

With a sigh he slid down the wall and closed his eyes. He should have known, Christine never came to the chapel anymore. He still did, or at least he had wanted to, just to see if she was there. But he had always disappointed himself with some excuse or another. It seemed like no one ever went anymore, he passed by the tunnel often, and never heard anything.

"How sad," he murmured, "it used to mean so much…"

He glanced back down on the small room and sighed. It didn't really matter anymore, soon, very soon she would be his again and she would see how much he loved her, and how much she loved him. With a swish of his cloak he stood up and left the chapel.

"Soon," he muttered, "very soon, Christine. My Christine."

* * *

**A/N: Well, not a very long or exciting chapter, but they can't all be. Please drop a review if you're reading and tell me what you thought. The next chapter should be interesting (ooh, starting rehearsals) and probably a bit longer.**


	13. XIII

XIII

The first rehearsals of _Don Juan_ proved to be miserable events. The musicians belched and screeched their ways through the score, the dancers tripped through their routines and the actors and choirs members fumbled with their lines as Erik watched from above with growing anger. Even Christine, his beloved Christine, stumbled through her lines.

Of course, he hadn't expected it to go well at first, but the utter mess they were making of his masterpiece infuriated him. Carlotta often broke off into small rants or tantrums that only caused the already confused chorus members to lose their places. At several intervals the orchestra lost their place and quickly tried to recover, only to make an even worse muddle of the music.

Erik was certain to watch the rehearsals from a safe distance, preferably up at the highest point of the theatre, safely hidden behind the chandelier. From their he glared down at the stage, seething with every missed note or fumbled line. At length he couldn't stand it any more and let out a shout of rage that caused the chandelier to tremble and seemed to echo from every wall of the theatre.

The ballet rats gave their usual screams of fright and huddled together as the orchestra screeched to a halt and the entire stage seemed to freeze as the people upon it tried to locate the source of the cry. Erik shook his head in disgust, surely they knew him far better than that. A small and sinister chuckle replaced the dying shout, seeping from the walls and ceiling as the man left the room with an ominous, but unseen, swish of his cloak.

* * *

"Christine," Meg said uncertainly, resting a hand gently on her friend's arm, "Christine, are you alright?" 

"I'm fine, Meg," she replied distantly.

"Are you certain?" Meg asked, "you've gone terribly pale, you like about to faint."

Christine shook her head to clear it and turned to her friend, "I'm fine, Meg, I promise. Just a bit tired."

"If you say so," Meg murmured, staying close to her just in case.

"Its all going so badly," Christine murmured, "isn't it, Meg? This entire affair, its become nothing more than an enormous mess."

"I wouldn't say that," Meg said, trying to sound cheerful, "we're getting better, and there is still so much time."

"There'll never be enough time," Christine said sadly, "not for what he wants. He wants it to be perfect…and we can't do that."

Meg watched as Christine sighed quietly and stared at the floor, a strange, sad look in her eyes. After only a moment though their attention was captured by the rap on Antoinette's cane against the wooden floor of the stage. Immediately the murmuring stopped.

"We have much to do," Antoinette sighed, "apparently he is displeased. So hurry up and get into your places, there is much to work on and little time to do so."

* * *

Rehearsals eventually became more collected, and the notes from the ghost became more persistent. Even the tiniest details were not overlooked by his keen eye and the managers and staff soon became flustered by the never ending demands he showered upon them. 

"This is insane!" Firmin cried one afternoon, "we cannot deal with all these absurd requests. Is he mad?"

"I think we all know the answer to that question," Andre muttered.

"What has he asked now?" Monsieur Reyer moaned, "and please, tell me it does not involve replacing any members of my orchestra."

"No, it involves the building of the set. It seems he wishes for the impossible!" Firmin exclaimed, tapping the paper irritably, "Madame Giry, do you have any idea how he wishes us to complete this insane feat?"

Antoinette simply shrugged her shoulders, "I am no architect, Messieurs, so I cannot help you. Ask the set builders."

"We have," Andre grumbled, "and even they have no idea how to accomplish this goal. Perhaps he should build it, if he wishes for such specific results."

"Perhaps," Antoinette agreed.

"Well, be off with you," Firmin snorted, "I'm sure you both have something important to do. Go rehearse, or something."

Antoinette sighed and made her way back to her apartment. She had given her dancers the day off, for the sole reason that they all needed a good rest. Once there she made herself a cup of tea and slumped into her chair, pressing a hand to her forehead and a headache began to throb in her temples. Everything was becoming so complicated. The demands for perfection were, as the managers had said, insane. And that insanity was starting to wear every one down to their last nerves. Especially Raoul. The poor young man could constantly be found begging Christine to stay with him, and every time she would refuse, saying that she couldn't leave at such a time. This always perturbed the young man, and he would leave every night with a heavy heart.

* * *

Christine shook her head and pulled away from Raoul, "No, I can't." 

"Why not?" he asked, exasperated by her determination, "Christine, it is dangerous here, you have said so yourself. Just come with me and get away from this for at least one night! It would do better for you to not sleep here."

"I can't," she repeated, "please, Raoul, I'm tired."

He sighed and kissed her cheek, "Fine, Christine, I'll be back tomorrow. Good night."

Christine sighed heavily and said good night before going to bed. It wasn't that she did not want to go with him, but she knew that she couldn't. Raoul wanted more than just one night, he wanted to save her, to take her away from the theatre, and she knew that was dangerous.

If she left, then his rage would be terrible, and there would be no end to what he might do. She told him she couldn't because it would be too hectic to go back and forward between the house and the theatre, but they both knew it wasn't the truth.

"Are you ready for bed?" Meg asked, disturbing her thoughts, "Elsa and I were going to go out, if you'd like to come."

"Out?" Christine asked, feeling a familiar fear creep into her veins. She now hated being left alone in the theatre.

"Yes, just across the street."

"I'll come," she said.

"Good, we're leaving in a few minutes."

Christine sighed and ran a brush through her hair. Fear and inconvenience were not the only reasons she did not want to leave, though she told herself they were. She also didn't want to leave, to disappoint someone who had once meant so much to her. He deserved this performance, this one final performance.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, I have finally given you an update and am terribly sorry for the long delay, but I was working for the past two weeks. Anywho, the updates should (as I always tell you) be a little more regular now, for I am really getting into this part. I just watched the movie again last night and am worrying over the ending though, it will be hard to write, so once that part comes please bear with me. Leave some reviews, please and thank you. Love you all!**


	14. XIV

XIV

Christine sighed as the rehearsal ended. It was two weeks until the opening night and for once the theatre seemed to be ready for it. The sets were done, the costumes all fit and the lines were all, more or less, perfected. But no matter how hard she tried the performance never felt natural.

She knew every step she was supposed to take, every little nuance she needed to make the performance seem natural, but no matter how hard she tried it never felt right. Beside Piangi everything felt awkward.

"You're doing so well," Meg told her.

"It doesn't feel right," she replied, "I can't make it fee right."

"But it looks good," Meg encouraged, "and its sounds wonderful."

Christine sighed. She knew that Piangi was doing well, he had enough experience to put himself into a character while, at the same time, not really doing it. Christine wasn't like that, she had only performed once as a singer. And though her voice was trained, she felt inexperienced in such a heavy role.

"Christine," Raoul said, striding onto the stage, "its coming together."

"I know," she replied.

"I must be off," he sighed, "I have a dinner to attend. If you'd like-"

"No," Christine interrupted, "I'll stay here, thank you."

"I love you," he murmured, kissing her, "good night, Little Lotte."

Christine smiled and watched as he left, Meg was watching her, "Why don't you go with him?"

"I've told him, and you," Christine said "it would be-"

"Too complicated," Meg finished, "I know. But would it really, Christine?"

"Come on, Meg, I'm hungry. Lets go get some supper."

* * *

Erik stared out over the city, already it was dark, and the lights were flickering and glinting in the city like a hundred fallen stars. It was a strange contrast to the sky, where no stars shone at all, hidden behind dark grey clouds.

He had become tired of watching rehearsals, deciding that they were finally becoming good enough to leave alone. He also wanted to make the managers sweat over his lack of involvement. As he watched he saw a carriage pull away from the city, he immediately recognized it and curled his lip irritably.

After a few moments he went back inside, tired of watching the city and brooding over his life. Besides, the wind had been cold and hinting of rain, the theatre really was more enticing.

The halls of the theatre were surprisingly empty, but then again, they had been like that since his last appearance. He made sure to take a final look around before making his way down to the stables.

A horse nickered a quiet greeting and he held his hand out for it to lick. He sighed heavily and rubbed the animal's large cheek as it searched for a treat.

"I have nothing for you," he murmured, "but you don't really care, do you?"

The horse nuzzled his shoulder gently, blowing hot air in his face. Erik gave a sad smile and petted it's forehead, watching as it's large dark eyes closed in contentment. He sighed and was about to leave when the horse opened it's eyes again and gave an eager nicker.

Erik swung around quickly, immediately aware of another presence in the stable. But when he turned he was not met with a stable boy, like he had though, but instead he was met with the wide, frightened eyes of Christine.

* * *

"Christine," Meg said, "you seem distracted, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Christine said, sipping her tea, "just a little warm…I think I'll get some fresh air."

"Do you want me to come?"

"I'll just go down to the stable," Christine said, "I'll be fine…"

"I guess…"

"Come on," Meg said, getting to her feet and grabbing Christine's hand "I'll go with you. I haven't' been to the stable in ages."

Christine just nodded and began to follow her friend out of the dormitory and to the stable. They were almost there when Meg gasped and grabbed her arm, "I just had a thought."

"What was it?" Christine asked, trying to calm her hammering heart.

"I'll go to the kitchen and get something for the horses," Meg said, "maybe some carrots, or apples."

"Or lumps of sugar," Christine suggested, "they always like those."

"Wonderful idea," Meg said, "you go ahead, I'll be along in a minute then."

"Alright," Christine said, "hurry though, we're supposed to be in bed."

Meg went off as quickly as she could and Christine went down the few steps to the stable. The difference in the air was immediate and the cool air felt good against her face. She took another step forward and hear one of the horses nicker.

She looked up and felt herself pale at the sight before her. With the horse was the shadow of a man she had come to fear, and he looked poised to strike.

She couldn't do anything, just stare at him, and he stared right back, with a burning intensity that made her blood run cold. Then he took a small step forward and she gave a small gasp and stepped back.

"Christine!" Meg called.

Before she could reply he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the stable as if he had never even been there. Meg came up beside her and looked a the space where he had been standing.

"Christine?" she asked, worry filling her voice, "Christine, you're trembling!"

Christine felt tears roll down her face and slid slowly to the ground, Meg beside her the entire time, "it was him," she breathed, tears choking her throat, "he was here, Meg, he was right here."

"Who was here?" Meg asked, staring at her friend.

"Him," Christine replied, "the Phantom."

"Come on," Meg said, helping her up, "lets get back inside, you're freezing and so pale."

* * *

Erik bolted from the stable as fast as he could, ducking into a passage in the side of the theatre. He followed it until it brought him into an alcove, and then followed that dark hallway before ducking into another passage. He came out of that one into a dimly lit hall before realizing where he was.

Only a few metres in front of him was the door to Antoinette's apartment. He stared at the door, hesitant to do anything. He didn't' want to leave, but he knew he couldn't know. She wouldn't want him there, no one wanted him. And he couldn't blame them for it.

A wave of emotion hit him so hard he nearly doubled over and within seconds he had sunk to his knees, silent sobs tearing through his body. He suddenly couldn't get enough air, and fumbled to untie his cravat and loosen his collar.

For once he didn't care if anyone found him, he almost wished for it to happen, so they could end all his miseries. What he had seen in her face was terror, pure and ungoverned fear.

He heard the door open behind him and turned to glare at the figure of Antoinette. She stared down on him with icy eyes and just shook her head.

* * *

Antoinette opened the door to see him doubled over, it wasn't the first time it had happened. When he was younger he had often appeared in front of her door, but it had been a long time since his last fit.

It was almost pathetic, she decided, that he should be so upset when he had caused so much pain to everyone around him. She just shook her head sadly, she didn't want him there.

"You are not welcome here," she said tonelessly, "go away, Erik."

He glared at her again before getting back to his feet. He said nothing, just turned and left. Antoinette let out a held breath and went back into her apartment.

* * *

**A/N: Oh yeah, two days in a row, go me! So drop me a review, I am sadly lacking in them. I'll update again soon, hopefully.**


	15. XV

XV

The next few days represented another reign of terror for the theatre. Note after note arrived, each one detailing different problems in the play, problems that had not been present only a few days before.

The set wasn't painted correctly, there was a fault in one of the dances, the acting was sub par. Anything that could possibly be criticized was and everyone scrambled to try and fix those small problems.

"It is insanity!" Monsieur Reyer complained one afternoon, "I do not see any of these problems, do you, Madame Giry?"

"Non," she replied simply, "I do not, Monsieur Reyer, but he does."

"Yes, so we must suffer."

Antoinette nodded her head, "Yes, it seems to be our fate…"

"Maman," Meg said, hurrying over to her, "shouldn't we be rehearsing?"

"I suppose so," she sighed, "go and get everyone into their lines. I will be there in a minute."

"I will get the orchestra ready," Monsieur Reyer sighed.

"Merci."

Antoinette could hardly bear to watch the rehearsals anymore, she had become tired of the twisted plot that had erupted from Erik's mind. Every day she was forced to watch the demented plot play out before her eyes, as well as watch her dancers perform some of the most erotic dances she had ever seen.

"That is enough!" she called at length, "you may go and take a break. Rehearsals are finished for the day."

The girls all scampered off the stage in what could only be described as relief. Apparently they as well were tired of the play, and it had not even been performed yet.

"Maman?" Meg asked.

"Yes?"

"Never mind," she sighed, "I'm going to go find Christine."

"That is a good idea," Antoinette agreed, "then you two may go out for the afternoon. I think we could all use a break from the theatre."

"Thank you," Meg breathed, "we'll be back before it gets dark."

"I should hope so."

* * *

Christine wandered the chill streets of Paris with Meg, looking into the windows of the shops, but not really seeing what was inside. Ever since the night in the stable she couldn't help but blame herself for the trouble in the theatre. After all, it was her fault, wasn't it?" 

"Isn't that lovely?" Meg asked, pointing at a dress displayed in a shop window.

"Yes," Christine replied quietly, "its lovely, Meg."

"Christine, have you even looked?" Meg asked, "you seem so distant. I thought that going out might cheer you up a bit."

"I'm sorry, Meg, I guess I'm just a bit…distracted."

"Christine," Meg said, grabbing her friend's forearms, "what's bothering you? You can tell me, you that don't you? I'm your friend, Christine, I want to help you."

"Its nothing."

"But I can't, can I?" Meg asked, "not this time…not anymore."

"Meg," Christine said, realizing her friend was close to tears.

"Its not like when we were little," Meg murmured, "I can't make it better with a hug, and I want to. I want to make it all go away and I can't, and it makes me feel so helpless."

"Its not your fault," Christine assured her.

"I know," Meg sighed, "but it isn't your either."

"I'm not so sure of that," Christine whispered.

"Come on," Meg said, trying to sound cheerful, "lets go to a café, I'll buy us some hot chocolate."

"Alright, but we have to get back soon," Christine said, "Raoul, will be looking for me."

"Right, he's taken to guarding the dormitory," Meg said, "I'd forgotten."

Christine gave a weak smile. It was true, ever since her encounter in the stable Raoul had deemed it to dangerous in the theatre. They had even had an argument over it. In the end Raoul had refused to leave her alone for the night, even if it meant sitting outside the door all night. And that is exactly what he did."

* * *

The next days passed with more rehearsals and when the day before the performance finally dawned the entire theatre seemed to be on edge. Props were being adjusted or repainted, costumes were being double checked to ensure they fit properly and the theatre was being shined to the point where the wood would reflect the audience's faces. 

Erik found the buzz of the theatre annoying and quickly descended to the lake bellow. Tomorrow his opera would be performed and, despite his constant complaints, everything was as close to perfect as it could possibly be. Except one thing…

With a sighed he knelt by the lake and ran his hand through the cold water. He was tired and scooped up a handful, meaning to splash it on his face, but instead he just watched as it slowly seeped through the cracks in his hand, falling back into the lake bellow.

No matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep it within his hand. It was just like everything else he had ever tried to hold onto, no matter how hard he tried it always seemed to somehow slip through his fingers.

He had once wondered when it had all started, when exactly he had begun to lose control, but he knew exactly how it had started. It was just like the water, he had tried so hard to hold onto her, put down so many foolish and unnecessary rules, that he had barely noticed it at first. Barely seen her beginning to slip away until it was too late.

"Oh, Christine," he sighed, letting the last of the water fall into the lake.

It was then that he decided to return to the surface, to watch as the final touched were added to the theatre for the performance. He would stay there all night if needed, to correct any mistakes that he found. Tomorrow would be the debut of his opera, and there was nothing in the world that would prevent his from completing his plans now.

* * *

**A/N: Ooh, an update. And a fast one at that. Soon, very soon this story will be coming to an end...though how is another matter. The ending will probably take a long time to write, given all teh insane dialogue I'll have to sift through. So drop me a review, the next two or so chapters should be up fairly quickly.**


	16. XVI

XVI

Christine stared at the ceiling of the dormitory, wondering what time it was. She couldn't sleep, not altogether unsurprising considering the day, but it was annoying. She hadn't been able to sleep for the past few days, instead lying in bed wide awake, remembering things she would rather forget. The few times she did drift off her dreams had been filled with dark music and a man's touch.

Once bleak sunlight filtered through the transom window she finally got out of bed. And crept across the room, not wanting to wake any of the others who were sleeping. She needed peace of mind, and it seemed to her like the only place to get that would be at the cemetery, visiting her father's grave.

Raoul was sleeping in a chair by the door, and she was particularly careful slipping past him. She needed to do this alone, without her self appointed guardian with her. Still, she thought it very kind of him to want to protect her so.

She slowly made her way to the stables, waking one of the stable hands as she entered. He sighed heavily and blinked at her a few times before murmuring, "Where to, mademoiselle?"

"The cemetery," she replied, handing him a small purse.

As the man got the horses ready she went to the empty costume department and found a black dress, veil and cloak. She got dressed quickly, and was about to leave when a vase of dark red roses caught her eye.

* * *

Erik sighed heavily as he wandered through the empty theatre. Dawn was a good time to think, and he found himself doing a considerable amount of it when he caught sight of Christine sneaking from the dormitories. He followed her at a distance, sticking to the shadows. Once he heard where she wanted to go the perfect idea formed in his mind.

This was the perfect opportunity to get her back. So he hung back and waiting as the bleary eyed stable hand hitched up the horses. When he was almost done Erik picked up one of the many whips and drove it into the back of the man's skull. He collapsed immediately and Erik dragged him away, placing him on a bench, where it looked like he was merely asleep.

Before Christine returned he finished hitching the horses and swathed himself in his black cloak before climbing into the driver's seat. With any luck she would not recognize him.

Christine flung a black cloak over her shoulders and went back to the stable, the carriage was already ready, and the driver, swathed in a black cloak was sitting and ready.

"To my father's grave," she instructed, climbing into the carriage and making herself comfortable.

The carriage made good time, trotting and cantering across the cobblestones of the city, and the leafy dirt road that lead up to the cemetery. As it jostled along, Christine found herself thinking of the past year, and all the events that had led up to this. A light rain started to fall and she drew her cloak up against the chill.

"Thank you," she said, once the carriage had come to a stop. The man merely nodded before flicking the reins, and leaving her to her thoughts.

* * *

Erik watched as Christine started to make her way through the cemetery, he drove the horses a little further, just out of sight, before climbing down himself and making his way to the mausoleum where her father was buried.

Once he reached the large stone structure he dodged around the back of it and began to look for a way to set his plan in action. With a little effort he managed to climb to the top and position himself comfortably, while still remaining well hidden. Everything seemed to rest on this now.

* * *

"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing…her father promised her that he would send her the Angel of Music…her father promised her…her father promised her…" Christine whispered, staring at all of the tomb stones and stone angels that surrounded her. She began to sign to herself.

It was strange, but the last time she had been to the cemetery seemed so long ago. She could barely even remember it. She remembered the funeral, of course, but only as a blur of blank faces and murmured words of comfort.

She blinked back a few tears of her own as she approached the mausoleum and knelt before it, placing the roses on the ground in front of her. She was about to open her mouth to speak, when a familiar voice drifted towards her.

"Wandering child… so lost… so helpless yearning for my guidance."

"Angel…or father…friend…or Phantom? Who is there staring?"

"Have you forgotten you Angel?" he sang, voice becoming more and more hypnotic.

"Angel… oh, speak…what endless longings echo in this whisper?"

"Too long you've wandered in winter…far from my fathering gaze."

"Wildly my mind beats again you…" Christine sang, finding herself drawn up the steps.

"You resist," he sang, "yet the soul obeys! Angel of Music! You denied me… turning from true beauty…Angel of Music! Do not shun me…Come to your strange Angel!"

Christine could feel her heart tripping as his own voice overlapped hers, drowning out her own song to him, "Angel of Music! I denied you…turning from true beauty…Angel of Music! My protector. Come to me, strange angel…"

* * *

Erik could feel excitement rise in his breast as she began to creep forward and he continued to beckon her, using all the power his voice could hold.

"I am your Angel of Music…Come to me Angel of Music," he sang, "I am your Angel of music…come to me Angel of Music…"

His last words were drowned out as hoof beats pounded against the ground and the voice of the young vicomte could be heard as he flung himself off his horse, "Christine wait! Whatever you may believe, this man…this thing…is not your father!"

Erik gave a great cry of rage and leapt from the top of the mausoleum, flinging his cloak out of his face and drawing his sword. How _dare_ he call him that. How dare he call him a thing, as if he were not even human.

He could hear the blood roaring in his ears as their swords first collided. He wanted him dead! He wanted that cursed boy out of the picture for good. He had no right to call him that!

* * *

Christine watched in horror as the two men fought, swords glinting menacingly in the fog. Raoul was trained well, she knew that, but against the Phantom's terrible rage he seemed to have little chance. Not only that, but the other man was trickier, not following the rules of a fair fight.

She gasped when Raoul nearly tumbled into a tombstone, or when he was shoulder checked by the man in the black cloak. He was brave, but that couldn't compare, and she couldn't help but scream when the Phantom pushed Raoul back and slashed his shoulder.

Blood became evident on the white shirt, but Raoul ignored it, parrying the Phantom's blows and gradually forcing him back. Their swords crossed, and Raoul forced the Phantom's to the ground, stepping on it and kicking it away.

The ghost fell backwards and Raoul raised his swords, ready to run his through.

"No!" Christine cried, suddenly terrified that Raoul would do it, would kill her Angel, "Raoul…no…Not like this."

He seemed to have second thoughts, but sheathed his sword and went back over to where the grey stallion was pacing nervously. With the aid of a tomb he mounted and helped Christine onto the horse.

She looked back to see the other man staring at her, slowly pushing himself up from the ground, then she turned around as Raoul urged the horse into a steady canter, taking them both away from the cemetery.

"Are you alright?" Raoul asked quietly, his tone almost annoyed.

"I'm fine," she replied softly, "your arm-"

"Its nothing, I'll have it dressed back at the theatre."

* * *

Erik glared at their retreating backs. She had stopped him…why? Why would she do that? He had been bested, he had been ready to die, ready to have his miserable life ended right there, and she had snatched away that opportunity. He had stolen his only chance at love, and she had left him to suffer through that pain.

He dragged himself up fro m the ground and took a deep breath, "Now let it be war upon you both!" he snarled.

Then he swirled his cape, spraying the wet from it before picking up his sword and sheathing it. Blood red rose petals decorated the ground, and he kicked at them before stalking off to find the carriage he had left, praying that it was till there and that he would not have to walk home.

* * *

**A/N: Ooh,I am getting quicker with the updates, no? Please if you are reading tell me what you think of the story, I need some sort of idea. I, personally really liked the way this chapter turned out, how about you? So drop a reviewand speak your mind.**


	17. XVII

XVII

Raoul dismounted first, before helping Christine to the ground and leading her back into the safe confines of the theatre.

"You should get that taken care of," she suggested, "its still bleeding. Madame-"

"I will go to a doctor immediately," he said, brushing a lock of hair from her face, "if it worries you. Just promise me that you will stay here, Christine. Out of danger."

"I promise," she replied.

"Thank you," he said, "I will be back shortly."

As he left Meg came up behind her, "Christine! Oh, I was so worried when I woke up and saw you were gone. Where were you?"

"I went to the cemetery," she replied quietly, "to see my father again."

"Maman, has been looking for you," Meg said, "they wanted you to try on your costumes again, just to make sure they still fit properly."

"They have been fitting them to me all week!" Christine said, suddenly exasperated, "why would they not fit now?"

"I don't know," Meg murmured, "but they're waiting for you…I have to go now. I'll see you later?"

"Of course," Christine sighed, "I'm sorry, Meg. I didn't mean to be angry with you."

"Its fine, I know how much pressure you're under. Just remember: I'm here for you, Christine, and so is Raoul."

"I know…I think I'll go try my costumes on again. I'll see you later, Meg."

They all fit, just as they had the day before that, and the entire week before that. But the designers still fiddled with them, unhappy with one aspect or another.

"They're fine," Christine said at length, "thank you for helping."

"Alright dear," an older woman clucked, "and good luck tonight."

"Thank you," Christine murmured, as they helped her change into a more casual dress, "I think I'll need it."

"Nonsense," the woman replied, "you'll do fine, dear, you have a beautiful voice."

Christine nodded her head and left the costume department. She didn't want to return to the dormitory yet, so she decided to go up to the roof. From there she could see the entire city stretch out bellow her. People were already queuing to get into the theatre. Whether it was to see the performance, so blatantly advertised with the large, seductive posters, or to simply have a place to visit, she did not know.

With a final look at the city bellow, she turned away and started her descent back to the theatre. She would return to the dormitory, talk with Meg, and prepare herself for that night.

"I don't want to do this," she breathed, "I can't do this, Meg. I can't, I just know that something will go wrong…I can feel it."

"Then don't!" Meg exclaimed passionately, "you don't have to do anything. You can refuse to go on. Christine, it is your choice. No one else can force you into this."

"I don't know…do I have a choice?"

"Yes! Christine, go and tell maman, she'll understand, she'll make sure you don't perform," Meg said confidently, "if you think you're in danger then you shouldn't go on."

"You really think, Madame Giry, would be able to convince the managers?"

"Of course, and if not then just run, tell Raoul you want to go. I'm sure he'll take you away, just like he's been wanting to do these past weeks."

"I will," Christine said, "I'll go. I'll find both of them, and if one method does not work, then the other will…thank you, Meg."

* * *

Erik stopped the carriage a block away from the theatre and climbed down from the seat. Several people cast him curious glances, but he ignored them, unhitching the horses in the street at driving them off. He couldn't return with them, but he knew that they would eventually make their way back to the stable. 

As he walked he began to strip off his jacket, waistcoat and cravat. He didn't need them, and they were becoming somewhat suffocating. As he approached the theatre he had to edge around the side and keep to the shadows until he found one of the secret ways in.

Once inside he made his way up, up, up, through the theatre, until he found himself above the auditorium. With practised stealth he slipped between the ceiling and the window to the controls for the massive chandelier.

The unhooking of the chain and the pulling of the levers quickly prepared it for it's part in the night's events. If things did not progress smoothly that night, there would truly be a disaster beyond their imaginations. A disaster that would seal all their fates, and he had a feeling that things would not run smoothly.

* * *

Antoinette followed the managers and Raoul through the theatre, she had been trying to find the two men when Raoul had shown up, asking about them as well. Now that he had found them he quickly pushed her to the side to speak with them. 

"We have all been blind. And yet the answer is staring us in the face. This could be the chance to ensnare our clever friend."

"We're listening…" Andre said.

"Go on…" Firmin agreed.

"We shall play his game - perform his work - but remember we hold the ace…" he explained, "for, if Miss Daae sings, he is certain to attend…"

"We are certain the doors are barred…" Andre said, following the plan.

"We are certain the police are there…we are certain they're armed!" Firmin added.

"The curtain falls, his reign will end!" they all finished triumphantly.

Antoinette tried to argue with them, but they didn't allow her a word in edgewise. How could they think that their plan would work? Erik knew every passage of the theatre, every secret that it held. They could car every door and window, have the entire Paris police force present, and chances were, they would still get away.

It was then that she saw Raoul look up, and caught sight of Christine staring down at them from the wings. A mixture of accusation and fear clouded her features, and she quickly turned away and ran. So, it would seem that the vicomte had not told her of his plan, so he quickly went off to look for her.

* * *

Christine had hardly been able to come to terms with what she had heard. They wanted to use her to capture him. Like she was bait, used to lure in a large, dangerous creature so they could capture it. But she knew it wouldn't work, they wouldn't be able to catch him. 

She lit a candle for her father, in the small chapel, and tried to calm herself. But it wouldn't work, her heart was tripping and tears clogged her throat. She knew what would happen if they attempted this. He would come, and they he would take her away.

"Raoul, I'm frightened," she said, as he entered the chapel, "don't make me do this…Raoul, it scares me - don't put me through this ordeal by fire…He'll take me, I know…we'll be parted forever…He won't let me so…What I once used to dream I now dread…If he finds me it won't ever end…and he'll always be there, singing songs in my head…he'll always be there, singing songs in my head…"

"You said yourself he was nothing but a man…yet while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead."

Christine turned away unhappily, it was like he didn't understand anything. She was terrified, and all he wanted to do was use her for his twisted plan.

"Twisted every way what answer can I give? Am I to risk my life to win the chance to live? Can I betray the an who once inspired my voice? Do I become his prey? Do I have any choice?" she asked, panic rising, "he kills without a thought, he murders all that's good… I know I can't refuse, and yet, I wish I could. Oh God - if I agree what horrors wait for me in this - the Phantom's Opera?"

Raoul sighed and touched her arm gently before tenderly replying and attempting to calm her, "Christine, Christine, don't think that I don't care - but every hope and every prayer rests on you now…"

Christine was suddenly overwhelmed by all of her conflicting emotions, and buried her face in her hands. Raoul gently took her head from and kissed her gently, but Christine turned her face away.

"I have to get ready, Raoul," she murmured.

"I'll be there for you tonight," he said, "don't be afraid, Christine."

"I won't," she lied.

* * *

Erik sighed heavily as he began to prepare for the night's events. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror as he applied stage makeup to cover the parts of his face that would not be hidden by the black mask. Then he adjusted the dark wig and put the mask on, adjusting it so it rested perfectly. 

"Seal my fate tonight- I hate to have to cut the fun short, but the joke's wearing thin…let the audience in…let my opera begin!" he sang, picking up one of the many candles and cruel laugh before turning away from the scene and making his way up to the theatre.


	18. XVIII

**XVIII**

The managers worked frantically the entire afternoon and by the time the performance was set to begin it seemed as if every gendarme in Paris was inside the theatre. Christine watched them enter for a while, before being lead away to get ready for the opera.

She changed into her first costume for the night and sighed as the lacy sleeves, if they could be called that, slipped down her shoulders. She quickly adjusted them, pulling them back up and crossing her arms meekly over her chest, suddenly feeling self conscious. Several other woman tutted and worked on her hair and makeup.

"Are you ready?" meg asked as she hurried past, done up in her first costume.

"No," Christine said, "and yes…oh, Meg, your mother must hate that costume."

"It isn't so bad," Meg said, picking at it a bit, "I have to go warm up, good luck."

"You too…"

* * *

Antoinette watched as the dancers milled around her, all dressed in the horrendous garbs of whores, or in the shadowy black costumes for the dances during Point of No Return. Soldiers stood off to the sides, watching as they warmed up.

"Meg," she said once her daughter appeared, "hurry and get warmed up, where have you been?"

"I just wanted to see Christine before I came," she explained, staring at all of the gendarmes, "what will happen tonight?"

"I do not know. Please, hurry and get ready."

Mg hurried off and Antoinette leaned against the wall. All of the soldiers made her nervous, after all, even she had no idea what would happen that night. The young man was already in Box Five, so where would Erik watch from.

"Madame Giry!" Monsieur Reyer called.

"Oui?"

"This is going to be some performance, no?"

"Yes, it will indeed," she sighed, "but I do not know whether it will be for good or bad."

"Bad," he replied with certainty, "I can still hardly stand the music. I think I may put cotton in my ears."

"Hmm, I doubt that will help."

"No," he sighed, "and I have none. Good luck, Madame Giry."

"You as well."

Heleft then and Christine walked into the backstage. She looked nervous, no, terrified would be a better word for it. Antoinette watched her, carrying the basket of red roses, and peering at the police with a strange mix of fear and pity.

"My dear!" she called, "come here."

She did as she was told," What is it?"

"You look nervous, my dear. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied, "I just…I'm fine. Is it to begin soon?"

"yes, five minutes."

"Oh," she said, watching as the others took their places on stage. Carlotta was squawking angrily, but everyone knew that when the curtain rose she would perform, "I should take my place."

Antoinette grabbed her hand, "Be careful."

Christine just nodded her head and moved away to watch. Everyone was now seated and the orchestra was warming up.

* * *

The first dissonant notes of the opera were played and the cacophony of sound caused the audience to murmur and turn to each other in their seats. Whispering as they tried to figure out what exactly was going on. Several tried to get up and leave, but all of the doors were locked and guarded, so they returned to their seats as the set is first revealed.

The opera began and Carlotta quickly took the centre stage, trying to milk as much out of her small part as possible. The audience whispered to each other and coughed, fidgeting with programs and gloves. Christine watched from the side, listening to the familiar music.

"…Here's my hat, my cloak and sword. Conquest is assured, if I do not forget myself and laugh…" Piangi sang, hurrying off the stage, laughing as he went.

Erik waited, hidden behind a dark curtain for Piangi to come of, and when he did he struck, snagging him with the lasso and breaking his neck before he could scream. He then pushed the body aside and peeked out through the curtains, it was a full house.

* * *

Christine took a deep breath to calm herself and stepped out onto the stage. The wood felt cool beneath her bare feet, and her heart seemed to thunder in her chest. But she adopted a look of calm and moved to the centre of the stage.

"No thoughts within her head, but thoughts of joy! No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love!" she sang, allowing the note to fill the auditorium before kneeling on the stage and fiddling with one of the roses in her basket.

"Master," Passarino sang, signalling the impending duet.

"Passarino," he replied, and her blood seemed to freeze in her veins.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I know, really short chapter, but it was kind of neccesary (and I did give you another one today), since otherwise it would have been terribly, terribly long. Its time! Don Juan Triumphant. Drop me a review if you are reading and tell me what you think so far.**


	19. XIX

XIX

She knew that voice, in that one word it immediately became evident that it was not Piangi. In the one word she became aware of his presence on the stage. And in that one word she knew that this would be an opera unlike any other the theatre had ever seen, or would ever see again.

* * *

Antoinette prepared her dancers before going towards the stage to watch from the sides. She could already hear the voice, but when she rounded the corner she felt her stomach lurch, and had to steady herself at the sight before her.

There he was, standing on the stage, right in the open. Even she had not expected such folly. But then again, it was Erik, and she had never truly been able to understand him. However it was not simply the fact that he was there that shocked her. It was the pure, unbridles passion that seemed to influence their every action. They were toying with each other, especially Christine, and she was shocked by it.

"Maman?" Meg whispered.

"Shush," she replied, though it was unnecessary. Meg was already staring at the stage, where her friend and an unknown man were standing on a bridge, singing of passion, and acting as if it were real.

* * *

Raoul knew from the moment Christine had looked at him that the man on the stage was the Phantom. He alerted the police behind him, and then the managers, who in turn alerted their own set of gendarmes. It was all set, so he turned back to the stage to watch.

It was almost unbearable to watch them together. The way they moved, the enticing little nuances, the subtle signs. He tried, tried as hard as he could, but no matter what, he could not convince himself that it was acting. He knew that it wasn't.

The way he touched her, the way she responded, the way she acted, the way he responded. In all the rehearsals he had never seen her act that way. She had been scared, afraid to go anywhere for fear of that man, the very same man who seemed to bring out all of her secret longings.

"Past the point of no return, the final threshold-the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn…we've passed the point of no return…"

God, he was caressing her, and she responded to the gentle touch like a lover, she had responded to him like a lover throughout the entire song. But by now the gendarmes would be in the wings. But then he began to sing again, quietly at first. But his voice seemed to carry through the entire theatre, and Raoul suddenly felt as if he was second to this eccentric and sensual man.

* * *

Christine felt as if a fog had descended upon her as his fingers tangled in her hair, and stroked her neck and shoulders gently.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime…Lead me, save me from my solitude…" he pleaded, and she suddenly became terribly aware of the police all around them, the police he seemed so oblivious to, "Say you want me with you here, beside you…" he grasped her hands, and in his eyes she could see all the love and sadness that he felt, "Anywhere you go, let me go too-Christine, that's all I ask of…"

She couldn't let it happen, she couldn't let the gendarmes kill him. So, very calmly she placed her hand on his cheek, praying that he would understand what she was doing.. Then, jut as he was about to finish she pulled off the mask, praying that he would run, just like he had before. Instead he gave her a look of such betrayal and anger that it made her blood freeze. Then he looked up at the grand chandelier, and knew it was all over.

With a grunt he drew his swords and slashed at one of the many ropes of the set, it whipped away quickly and his foot drove into a hidden lever. There was a jerk, and then his arms wrapped around her as the bottom of the bridge opened. Her stomach dropped as they began to fall, and, above the rushing of the wind, she heard people screaming and a resounding crash.

* * *

Antoinette gasped as the chandelier crashed to the stage, and the people swarmed from the theatre in a blind terror. The stage almost immediately caught fire, and it spread quickly. People were screaming and crying. Carlotta was lying over the body of her dead lover, while others tried to get out.

"Where did he take her?" Raoul demanded, jogging up beside her.

"Come with me, monsieur, I will take you to him!" she replied, "but remember: keep your hand at the level of your eyes!"

"I'll come with you," Meg said.

"Non, Meg, non! You must stay here," Antoinette replied, pushing her daughter back, "come with me, monsieur, do as I say."

Meg watched them go, then turned back to the mob of people following then. Turned around and spread her arms to stop them from following, "No!"

* * *

Christine barely had time to recover from the fall before she found herself being dragged down through the theatre, "Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair! Down we plunge towards the prison of my mind! Down that path into darkness deep as hell!" he cried, rounding on her bitterly, "Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold as dismal place? Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!"Erik turned away bitterly and continued to drag her towards the boat. On his way he made sure to set off the traps that he had set, in case anyone tried to follow him. Christine struggled against him, which only made his grip tighten. 

She had caused all of this, she had humiliated his in front of thousands of people. She deserved this fate.

Once at the boat he pushed her into it, and pushed off from the shore before she could get out, even then she tried, but he made sure to keep her inside. Once they arrived at the lair he dragged her out and towards the place where the mannequin stood, still dressed in the white wedding gown and veil.

"Hounded out by everyone! Met with hatred everywhere! No kind words from anyone! No compassion anywhere!" he cried, grabbing onto her shoulders and turning her roughly towards him, "Christine, why…why?"

She just shook her head, too confused and afraid to answer. Why…why what? There were so many questions in that one simple word, especially from him. She turned away and looked at the dress.

"Put it on," he growled.

"What?" she breathed, why?"

"Put it on!" he repeated, then he turned to glare at the lake, "you can use the bedroom to change."

Christine didn't move until he shoved the dress into her arms. At least he would give her privacy. Very slowly she backed away from him and went into the bedroom to change.

* * *

Antoinette led Raoul down through the theatre. There were many stairs, but she knew the point where the dangers began.

"Your hand at the level of your eyes!" she said, raising her hand in demonstration.

"The level of your eyes," Raoul repeated, mimicking her motion.

"This is as far as I dare go," she said, looking down at the hundreds of spiralling stairs.

"Thank you," Raoul said.

Antoinette watched as he took a few more steps, tearing off his tailcoat and neckwear as he went. She crossed herself quickly before turning back up towards the theatre. She only prayed that he made it to the lair, and that he did not fall victim to one of Erik's traps.

* * *

Christine changed slowly, keeping one eye on the entrance to the room, just in case. But he didn't come, he didn't disturb her privacy. Once in the dress she stepped out into the lair and saw him fiddling with the veil on the mannequin. Rage immediately bubbled in her gut. She knew what he wanted, and it sickened her and terrified her. 


	20. XX

XX

"Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood?" she demanded, "am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?"

"That fate which condemns me to wallow in blood, has also denied me the joys of the flesh," he replied, absently stroking a strand of her hair, "this face-the infection which poisons our love…"

He paused there and took the bridal veil from the mannequin's head, "This face which earned a mother's fear and loathing…a mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing, he sang darkly, then placed the veil roughly on her head, "pity comes too late-turn around and face your fate: an eternity of this," he snarled, pointing at his face, "before your eyes!"

Christine shook her head and moved away, pulling the veil off and putting it down. He still didn't understand, so she slowly drew the cover from the closest mirror, "This haunted face hold no horror for me now…its in your soul that the true distortion lies."

* * *

There was a moment of stunned silence, in which he considered her words. Then his eyes trailed towards the portcullis that barred entrance to his home. Standing there was Raoul, and a cruel smile formed on his lips. 

"Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest! Sir-"

"Raoul!"

"This is indeed, an unparalleled delight!" he continued, giving a mock bow and moving towards Christine, "I had rather hoped that you would come. And now, my wish comes true-you have truly made my night!" he laughed, putting his arm around Christine.

"let me go!" she said, pushing at him.

Raoul flung himself at the bars, "Free her! Do what you like, only free her! Have you no pity?"

Erik rolled his eyes and turned to Christine, "Your lover makes a passionate plea."

"Please Raoul it's useless," she said sadly, not wanting any more trouble.

"I love her!" he continued desperately, "does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion…"

"The world showed no compassion to me!" he replied viciously.

"Christine…Christine," he said, seeming to calm slightly, "at least let me see her."

"Be my guest, sir," Erik replied mockingly, pulling down a lever which caused the gate to rise.

Raoul stumbled through, pausing when he saw him moving towards him.

"Monsieur, I bid you welcome! Did you think that I would harm her? Why would I make her pay for the sins which are yours?" he snarled,.

Like lightning the Punjab lasso shot through the air, capturing a confused Raoul as he looked back at the closing gate. Before he had a chance to move Erik pinned him against the wall and wrenched one of his hands up, while pushing the other down.

"Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes!" he snarled, tying him to the gate, "nothing can save you now, except perhaps-Christine-Start a new life with me-buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me and you send your lover to his death! This is the choice-this is the point of no return!"

* * *

Christine stared at him, bewilderment and anger in her eyes, "The tears I might have shed for your dark fate grow cold and turn to tears of hate!" 

"Christine, forgive me, please forgive me…I did it all for you…and all for nothing," Raoul cried.

Christine watched as the Phantom moved past her, but seemed to be talking to herself, "Farewell my fallen idol and false friend…we had such hopes, and now those hopes are shattered…"

"Too late for turning back," Erik snarled, snatching up a lasso from the table "too late for prayers and useless pity…all hope of cries for help: no point in fighting…for either way you choose, you cannot win!"

He slipped the noose over Raoul's neck and tightened it before looping it through one of the holes above, then he started towards Christine again, tugging the rope menacingly.

"So do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?" with that he pulled hard on the rope.

"Why make her lie to you to save me?" Raoul choked, taking a strangled breath of air.

"Angel of music, who deserves this? Christine asked, "why do you curse mercy?

"For pity's sake," Raoul cried, "say no, Christine. Don't throw your life away for my sake.

"Past the point of no return, the final threshold…his life is now the prize which you must ear!"

"I fought so hard to free you," Raoul said, more to himself than anyone else.

"You've passed the point of no return…"

"Angel of music…you deceived me," Christine said sadly, "I gave you my mind blindly. Why are you doing this?"

"You try my patience," he snarled, pulling hard on the rope and causing Raoul to choke, "make your choice!"

* * *

Christine turned to look at Raoul, whose breathing was by now becoming laboured with the pressure of the rope on his throat. Then she looked back at the Phantom, once her angel. 

"Pitiful creature of darkness…what kind of life have you known?" she asked, slipping the ring onto her finger and moving towards him, "God give me courage to show you you are not alone!"

She approached him slowly and kissed him full on the lips. It lasted barely a moment, and she pulled back, tears streaming down her cheeks. She could tell by his reaction that he was stunned. Then he leaned in again, and she followed, catching him in another kiss, this one long, deep and passionate. A true lover's kiss.

They pulled apart and looked each other straight in the eyes. For a moment Christine thought she saw a smile flicker across his features, she knew there was a small one on her lips, but then he began to cry, as if overwhelmed and devastated by her actions.

* * *

Erik couldn't believe Christine's gesture, one of sacrifice and at the same time commitment. It was too much for him to bear, so he turned away, the rope already out of his grasp and the young man's throat freed from it's vicious grip. He could hear the mob approaching, chanting as they tried to find his home. 

"Take her," he said roughly, "forget me-forget all of this…leave me alone-forget all you've seen. Go now-don't let them find you! Take the boat-swear to me never to tell the secret you know and the angel in hell-go…" when they didn't move he shouted it, "go now…go now and leave me!"

Christine hurried over to Raoul and started to untie him. Once he was free she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He was still breathing hard, and the wound on his shoulder had reopened. But other than that he seemed to be fine, if not exhausted.

"We have to go," he panted, making his way over to the boat, "where's the pole?"

"I don't know," Christine replied, "against the wall, over there, I think."

Raoul moved to get it, but Christine made it there first. Carefully she lifted it, and carried it over to him. Raoul nodded his head and climbed into the boat. The phantom had disappeared into one of his rooms.

"Here, I'll help you in," he said, climbing in first.

Christine didn't hear him, she was staring at the ring that now adorned her finger. It didn't seem right, all of a sudden, to leave him alone in the darkness. Maybe it was foolish, or maybe it was just confusion, but that kiss, it had seemed to make her realize something.

"Christine!"

"What?" she gasped, "oh, in a minute…I have to do something first."

"There isn't time," Raoul said, "the theatre is on fire above us."

"Just wait!" she said, moving towards the bedroom, "please…"

Christine entered the room to see him sitting by the bed, staring at the little monkey music box, and singing along with it. She didn't know why, but the way he sang the song made it sound sad, and it brought tears to her eyes.

"Masquerade…paper faces on parade…masquerade…hide your face, so the world will never find you…"

He turned to her then, standing in the door. He seemed so helpless, and there was a terrible longing in his eyes. Christine took a step forward and started to twist the ring from her finger.

"Christine, I love you…" he whispered.

A moment of hesitation seemed to bring hope to his eyes, and a new wave of tears to hers. Then he saw her hand as she removed the ring, and that hope seemed to die. Very carefully she removed the ring and held it out to him. When he opened his hand she placed it in it, and then gently closed the fingers.

"For you," she whispered, her voice barely audible to ever her own ears. Then she turned and left, glancing back before she left.

"We can go," she murmured, climbing into the boat behind Raoul. He immediately began to row, though he seemed thoroughly exhausted by now.

* * *

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime…" 

"Say the word, and I will follow you…"

Erik stared at the ring for a moment before hearing her voice drift towards him again. He got up slowly and stepped to the entrance of the bedroom, and watched as she was rowed away by the boy. As she sang though, she was looking back at him.

"Share each day with me…each night…each morning," she didn't turn away, it was almost as if she was singing for him.

"You alone can make my song take flight-it's over now, the music of the night!" he cried, picking up a candle stick and smashing the nearest mirror.

* * *

He continued around, smashing each mirror in turn, until he came to one hidden behind a heavy velvet curtain. He pushed the curtain out of the way before driving the stick into the glass. It took three tries before it broke through, and the glass fell away, revealing the passage behind it. With a final look back at the lair he dropped the candlestick and stepped through, allowing the curtain to fall behind him, hiding the passage from view.

* * *

Christine winced when she heard his cry, followed by breaking glass, but Raoul only rowed harder. Somewhere ahead a mob could be heard, and they wanted to avoid it. So they pushed forward, and towards one of the many hidden exits, Christine trusted that Raoul knew where he was going.

* * *

**A/N: Whew! That was a bit of a challenge there. Why do they ahve to talk do much, so fast, adn all at the same time?I ask you.Honestly! Well, that was it, the last official chapter. There will, however, be an epilogue a little later tonight. So, tell me what you thought. Did I butcher it terribly?**


	21. Epilogue

Epilogue

Meg Giry lead the way into the lair, but there was no one there. She looked around and climbed out of the water, looking around for any sign of her friend, Raoul, or the man they called Phantom. No one was there.

"Where is everyone?" someone whispered.

"How did he get away?" another demanded.

Meg hurried forward, towards the bedroom. One inside she peered around, but there was once again nothing. Bellow she caught a glimpse of something white. One of the masks that he wore. Tentatively she picked it up.

"Meg!" someone shouted, causing her to turn away.

"What?" she asked, tucking the mask in her belt and leaving the room.

"Was there anything?"

"No," she replied, "nothing."

Carefully she moved around the lair, amazed by all the bizarre items it contained. There were so many candles, and broken glass littered to floor. Papers everywhere, and a burnt miniature stage.

"how strange," she breathed, following the line of broken mirrors.

She found the curtain covered passage and pulled the velvet cover back. No one seemed to notice her, so she ducked inside. Darkness quickly enveloped her, but she followed it, placing one hand against the wall and followed it towards the exit.

As she approached the end, she could hear someone ahead of her, breathing raggedly and staggering in the darkness. Ahead she could see light, the dull orange glow given off by the burning theatre.

"Oh my!" she gasped, stopping when she caught sight of the man ahead of her, "you…"

The look he gave then was so pitiful she could hardly see him as the murderer everyone claimed him to be, though she know it to be true. His face gave that away, that horrible face.

"Leave me alone," he said roughly, slipping slowly to the ground.

"Meg!" a voice echoed from the passage, "Meg, have you found anything?"

She looked towards the man in front of her, and then back down the tunnel, "I…umm. No!" she called, "just a dead end! I'm coming back now!"

She waited for the grunt of response before turning back to the Phantom and holding out the mask that she found, "Here, this is yours."

He reached out and took it from her, "Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why help me?"

"I don't know," she replied, ducking back into the tunnel, "maybe…maybe because you didn't hurt my friend."

With that she ducked back into the tunnel and felt her way towards the entrance. Somehow she just knew it. Knew that he hadn't harmed Christine. She emerged in the lair once again to find the mob leaving, some taking a few items that seemed to be of value.

"Take something if you want," a stagehand grunted.

Meg nodded, though she didn't expect to find anything. But, as she left a black violin case caught her attention. She quickly picked it up and followed the mob back into the water, and out of the theatre.

* * *

**A/N: Dum dum dum, the end. Tell me what you thought, good or bad.**


End file.
